


Missing Moments (One Shot Prompt Fills)

by morningsound15



Series: Perdition [2]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Discussion of kink, Domestic, F/F, Handcuffs, In Public, Jealousy, One Shot Collection, Oral Sex, Prompt Fill, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, Tumblr Prompt, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-01-06 03:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12203370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningsound15/pseuds/morningsound15
Summary: A collection of missing moments fromPerdition.Any tags and/or warnings will be added as needed.EDIT:I'm going to be going back through and re-ordering these so don't be alarmed if chapters starts disappearing -- they'll be back soon, in a more chronological order. Sorry in advance for the mess.





	1. Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“That was different.”_
> 
> _“Hm. Doesn’t seem all that different to me. You still seem pretty desperate.”_
> 
> _“I’m not begging, now.”_
> 
> _Beca grins, her teeth cutting a sharp line through her parted lips. “Not yet.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, so because I re-ordered this piece recently, the prompts are going to start coming at weird places and then being rearranged in a weird order. I’m super sorry for that. But it should only affect like the next 5 or so fills.
> 
> Keep your eyes peeled for more fills coming your way soon!
> 
> Also, right off the bat with some filth y’all… This MAY be the most explicit thing I’ve ever written??
> 
> Takes place in Chapter 2 of _Perdition._
> 
> **
> 
> Prompt 1: _I love Bossy Beca! Can you please continue the scene where Chloe left Stacie and Jessica to go see Beca for her reward for the sexting stuff she made her do?_
> 
> Prompt 2: _I was wondering if you would ever consider writing the scene of the reward after Chloe rushes to see Beca_

**

**Becs (9:46 p.m.)  
** _picture, chlo._

She whimpers as she takes a picture of her fingers, glistening wet under the fluorescent lighting of Stacie’s bathroom.

**Becs (9:47 p.m.)**  
_proud of you._  
_now go back out there  
_ _until the movie is over._

**Chloe (9:47 p.m.)  
** _Beca._

**Becs (9:47 p.m.)  
** _Chloe._

**Chloe (9:47 p.m.)  
** _please._

**Becs (9:48 p.m.)**  
_you can wait an hour  
_ _cant you?_

 

**Chloe (9:48 p.m.)  
** _No_

**Becs (9:48 p.m.)  
** _guess youll have to_

 

**

Chloe feels like she’s about to vibrate out of her skin. Her hands clench and unclench around the steering wheel as she drives as fast as she dares across campus to Beca’s apartment.

She feels a little dizzy. Her heart hasn’t stopped pounding since she left Stacie’s.

She’s pretty sure she grasped approximately 0% of the plot of the movie they were just watching — her attention diverted to other more pressing things — but she really couldn’t care less. The movie was dumb, and she has more important things to think about.

She’s turned on. Kind of unbelievably so, considering the only stimulation she’s had for the past hour was a quick finger-fuck — that she did to herself, mind you — while standing up in Stacie’s freezing-cold bathroom. And it was not nearly anything _close_ to satisfying.

But maybe that’s why she’s so worked-up, now. She only got the barest hint of relief before Beca told her to go back out and join her friends. She was only able to touch herself just long enough for her inner walls to start twitching. Not even enough time to take a little bit of the edge off. And then her fingers were wet and her upper thighs were shining with her own arousal and she had her underwear balled up in the pocket of her dress, her pulse racing and walking on unsteady legs back out into the apartment. Acting like everything was normal and she _wasn’t_ burning with the desire to walk right out of there without a second thought.

As if she could sit out there in that dark room with Stacie and Jessica and pretend that she’s _not_ absolutely drenched.

(But that was the game, really: Beca didn’t _want_ her to pretend. Beca wanted her to sit there, squirming while she tried to keep her legs closed and her breathing even. Sitting on Stacie’s couch, wet and aching and uncomfortable, did exponentially more to turn her on than her quick and unsatisfying fuck in the bathroom had. And the knowledge, the promise of what was still to come… it only increased her desperation.)

Her legs are trembling, just a little bit. Her thighs seem to shake on the leather seat beneath her. She grips her steering wheel harder to stop herself from dropping a hand into her own lap. (She’s _driving,_ for God’s sake. She’s not about to _touch herself_ while she’s operating a moving vehicle. God, could you imagine her obituary if she crashed? _Chloe Beale, Dead at 22, In Accident Caused by Out-of-Control Masturbation_.)

(Besides, Beca told her she couldn’t touch herself anymore tonight. And she’s not about to break the rules.)

God. _Jesus_. Okay she can do this. She can _do this_. She’s close, only a few minutes away. She only has to wait a few more minutes.

 

 

The second Beca opens the door Chloe has her hair fisted between her fingers and she’s slamming their lips together so hard that it’s actually painful. (It’s not a good kiss, not by a long shot, but it’s all she’s been able to think about doing all night so she’s not about to stop now.)

Beca does not appear taken aback in the slightest by Chloe’s near-on attack. She kisses her back immediately, the nails of one hand already sinking into Chloe’s skin, leaving half moon indents at the nape of her neck.

Chloe whimpers against Beca’s mouth as Beca yanks her into her apartment with her free hand, only to immediately shove her backwards. Chloe’s shoulder catches the corner of the door as she’s pushed by it. The contact jolts her and the shock of pain is instantaneous (she’ll have a nasty bruise in the morning), but never for even the briefest of moments does Beca allow their lips to part. The door slams shut so hard that Chloe can hear the entire _room_ shake with it, but still she barely notices, because her body collides with the wall at precisely the same moment.

She hits with enough impact that most of the air is forced out of her lungs. She’s breathless as Beca’s teeth grasp onto her lip, biting hard enough to sting, her body pressed flush to Chloe’s own. One hand has the hair at the base of Chloe’s scalp curled in a fist, pulling tightly and consistently, and the sting of it makes Chloe roll her hips. Beca’s other hand has a vice-like grip on Chloe’s side, just above her hip, her fingers already pressing bruising marks into the soft flesh there.

Chloe’s dizzy. She hasn’t managed a full breath since Beca opened her front door (such has been the intensity of their embrace) and she feels a little wobbly on her feet, liker her vision is starting to blur a little at the edges.

Only when she thinks she can’t stand it any longer — when she’s sure she’s going to either suffocate or combust at any moment — does Beca finally pull away from her.

Chloe gasps for air like a woman drowning. But Beca, completely unperturbed, doesn’t even let her lips leave Chloe’s skin. She immediately sets about kissing her way to Chloe’s neck, to the spot just under her ear. Every once in a while her teeth close quickly around skin — just a tiny nip, really; nothing more than a fleeting sting — and Chloe has to bite her own lip to stop from mewling at the feeling.

It’s in the midst of these ministrations that Chloe asks, seemingly out of the blue, with her words coming between deep, uneven breaths: “Did you finish your homework?”

Beca hums something muffled before she drags her tongue roughly up the side of Chloe’s neck, her teeth finding a light purchase on Chloe’s earlobe. She nibbles softly, just enough to pinch, and Chloe makes a noise somewhere in the back of her throat that she’s _never_ heard herself make before as shivers erupt all down one side of her body.

Beca’s voice comes out breathless, too, as she demands, “ _God_ , do that again.”

Chloe turns her head and kisses her, her lips pressing and incessant. Beca’s hand moves from Chloe’s hip and lands almost casually on her knee, and the second Chloe’s tongue brushes against hers Beca slides it about halfway up her thigh.

Chloe makes a soft, pleased noise. Their pacing has slowed considerably since they started, but the passion has not diminished in the slightest. Beca’s technique gets a little messier as she swaps bruising pressure for languid tongue, using every available movement to deepen their kiss. It’s wet and filthy in a toe-curling kind of way, and Chloe’s knees feel like Jell-O underneath her. She’s glad for the wall behind her, otherwise she’s sure she would not be able to stand on her own.

She doesn’t even want to think about how wet she is, how she must look underneath her skirt.

Beca’s hand has stilled somewhere on her thigh. Her grip is firm but not painful, her fingers steady. Her thumb traces a tickling pattern on the inside of Chloe’s thigh, brushing _so close_ to where Chloe needs her most that she can feel her pussy throbbing. But Beca doesn’t move her hand any higher, and with how aroused Chloe currently feels, those inches feel like miles.

“Beca,” Chloe husks when their lips part next, her voice gravely and her eyes hooded. Beca smirks, anticipating a plea, and moves down to nip at Chloe’s jaw. “Beca,” Chloe starts again, her head falling back against the wall, her hand threading through Beca’s hair, “you-mmm—” she trails off when Beca’s teeth find her pulse point and she begins sucking— “you didn’t answer me.”

Beca pauses, seems to register what Chloe has just said, and growls when she finally pulls away. “ _Seriously_?” She asks, doing a pretty good job of looking incredulous even while her lips are red and kiss-swollen, her hair already turning into a tangled mess between Chloe’s fingers. “I’m doing some of my best work over here and you’re asking me about my _homework_?”

Chloe knows she must look positively _debauched_ , what with her hair mussed from Beca’s incessant tugging, with a flush already blooming across her chest, with her eyes glassy and her pupils blown wide with desire. But she still manages to straighten her shoulders and say, with as much composure as she can muster in the moment (which, admittedly, is not a lot), “I want to make sure you finished your problem set. Is that a crime?”

Beca laughs, even as she rolls her eyes. “You’re something else. You know that?”

“Excuse me for caring about your grades.”

“I still don’t understand why we’re talking about this? I literally have my hand up your skirt.”

Chloe flushes a little deeper. She clears her throat. “Well… not _all_ the way.”

Beca, not breaking eye contact for even a moment, slides her hand the rest of the way up underneath the pleated skirt of Chloe’s dress, until her fingers reach the apex of Chloe’s thighs. Her fingers brush against Chloe’s bare sex, and she smirks a little when she finds no cloth barrier separating them. She’s clearly pleased that Chloe actually followed her directions and kept her underwear off for the rest of the evening.

Chloe’s knees buckle inadvertently a little, at the thought.

Beca quirks her eyebrow, as if to say, _What about now?_ and something about the casual way she goes about it makes Chloe’s stomach flip over. “Looks like you didn’t put them back on,” Beca says teasingly.

Chloe huffs. “ _God_ , you’re infuriating.”

Beca hums and presses her fingers up, just enough so that they barely slip past wet folds, igniting sparks of heat deep in Chloe’s belly. Chloe’s breath catches in her throat. “An hour ago you were practically _begging_ me to touch you, and now you’re calling me infuriating?” Beca says, her nose brushing against the side of Chloe’s jaw, the shell of her ear.

“An hour ago you were talking about bend—” Chloe stumbles over her words as Beca starts to move her fingers in a slow circle, the pressure of them feather-light and doing nothing to quench the aching fire deep in Chloe’s sex. Beca’s fingers flick across her clit as she simultaneously presses a messy, open-mouthed kiss to the spot where Chloe’s jaw meets her throat. Chloe groans, her head tipping back and her eyes sliding shut.

“What was I talking about?” Beca asks. Chloe bites her lip and shakes her head. She arcs her back ever so slightly, raising her hips up towards the contact she so desperately craves. Beca uses her free hand to press Chloe’s hips back into the wall, and she almost whimpers as Beca continues to keep her from relief.

Chloe feels a muscle in her jaw clench. “Stop teasing.”

“You _like_ teasing,” Beca shoots back. “That’s why you’re so wet right now.” Chloe lets out a puff of air, hard and disgruntled. Beca only continues to smirk. “C’mon, I need a refresher,” she says as her fingers continue their languid, lazy circles. Not enough pressure to do anything more than tease. “I can’t remember what I sent you, it was so long ago…”

Chloe shakes her head, because she doesn’t want to play Beca’s game, right now; she doesn’t think she can stand a second more of this incessant teasing. But she’s been worked up for so long that at this point she’d do just about _anything_ to get Beca to touch her, to do something _more_. “An hour ago you were talking about bending me over your kitchen table while I was in public,” she says all in a rush, the heat behind her words belied by the shakiness of her voice. “That was different.”

“Hm. Doesn’t seem all that different to me. You still seem pretty desperate.”

Chloe swallows, nostrils flaring. “I’m not begging, now.”

Beca grins, her teeth cutting a sharp line through her parted lips. “Not yet.”

This rhythm that they’ve fallen into tonight is unusual, for them. Usually once Chloe is inside Beca’s apartment they don’t really spend a lot of time _talking_. The banter has a tendency to fall away at the first touch, the first brush of lips.

(Chloe would not exactly call Beca _verbal_ in bed. Sure, she’s _loud_ , but she’s not usually one for commands and teasing once she begins using her fingers and her mouth for more interesting activities. For all of her posturing, Beca tends to focus the dirty talk on the events leading up to the physical act, not during it. Chloe’s never really minded before.)

Chloe swallows the plea she feels building in her throat, refusing to give Beca the satisfaction of winning. She’ll have to work harder than that if she wants Chloe to break.

Beca lets her fingers drift a little lower, the tip of her middle finger just barely brushing against Chloe’s opening. Chloe’s hips twitch, and Beca smiles.

“Do you want me to close the blinds?” She’s talking about the window across the room, the big one that stretches most of the way up the wall. It faces out onto a side street from up on the fifth floor, so most of the time there’s barely anything to look at; pedestrians rarely walk in this direction and there’s little-to-no actual traffic, even during the busiest hours of the day. It’s why Beca chose this apartment — the neighborhood is insanely quiet.

It’s dark, and there’s no real chance of anyone looking all the way up to the fifth floor of this nondescript building complex and catching them in the act. But still, the thought that they _might_ …

Chloe hesitates, just for a fraction of a second, but Beca (who has been watching her like a hawk since the second her fingers slipped under the hem of Chloe’s skirt) notices right away.

If possible, her self-satisfied smirk gets even bigger. “Oh, you don’t?” Chloe bites the inside of her lip but doesn’t say anything. “Is that because you know no one can see us, or so you can imagine that they might?”

Chloe blushes all the way to the tips of her ears, but still, she doesn’t answer. (She’s not sure she even _knows_ the answer. And she’s not sure she would be pleased with herself if she ever figured it out.)

Beca laughs, but the sound emanates from the back of her throat, growling and low.

She removes her hand from between Chloe’s thighs and takes a step back, pulling away. Chloe sways forward off the wall after her, trying to follow Beca’s touch inadvertently.

Beca quirks her head as she continues to walk backwards. “Dress on or off?” She asks, and Chloe knows she isn’t talking about herself. She’s asking if _Chloe_ wants her dress on or off.

It’s a simple question, really, but nearly impossible to answer. Dress on (usually) means: quick, dirty, fast, Chloe almost always leaves immediately after their respective climaxes. If she keeps her dress on, it means she has an excuse to leave, if she wants to. If she keeps her dress on it means that they might be able to cover for themselves, if someone were to happen to walk in on them in the midst of their fucking.

Dress off (usually) means: slower, the feeling of Beca’s skin on her own, Beca’s nails raking down her back. Dress off means there’s no way anyone could misconstrue what they’re doing, if anyone were to (God forbid) catch them in the act, with Beca’s fingers inside of her or Beca’s mouth on her. Dress off (while Beca’s clothes are still on) usually means exposure, vulnerability, a twinge of something adjacent to embarrassment-bordering-on-pleasurable-humiliation.

An impossible question. How is she meant to choose?

Beca, seeming to sense her hesitance (or perhaps simply growing impatient), toys at the zipper of Chloe’s dress. “How about off?” She asks, and her tone is almost soft. Almost something close to understanding. Chloe still can’t believe how much they’re talking, can’t believe how seriously Beca seems to be taking this, how she’s asking for Chloe’s preferences every step of the way (as if Chloe cares about anything more complicated than getting Beca’s fingers inside of her as soon as possible). Maybe she’s getting off on the power of it all, on the way she’s making Chloe express her wants and desires verbally before fulfilling them. Or maybe she really _is_ just in a mood to make this as good as she possibly can for the both of them.

Chloe nods her head. “Off,” she agrees, and only when she says it does she realize that Beca has, once again, somehow figured out _exactly_ what she’s in the mood for. Like she can read Chloe’s every minute expression. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Beca presses on her shoulders, turning her around. They’ve reached the kitchen table, and Chloe’s heart flips when she looks down at it. Beca’s fingers pull on Chloe’s zipper, and it’s not like she’s dragging it out purposely, or inching the metal down because she’s trying to tease, or anything like that, but she _definitely_ takes her time. And Chloe’s _so_ wet at this point, she just wants to shove Beca away and rip the dress over her head, push Beca down on the table so she can ride her thigh, her hand, her face, _anything_.

As Beca starts to undress her the straps of the dress fall from her shoulders. Chloe instinctively clutches the fabric close to her chest, trying to keep herself covered, before she remembers herself and lets her hands fall slack to her sides. Her nipples are hard, pebbled in the cool air of the apartment, and as the fabric falls around her waist goosebumps erupt over Chloe’s entire torso.

Beca places a hand on the middle of her back and pushes gently, and Chloe takes her cue. She bends over Beca’s table on her own as Beca lets her dress fall to the floor until it pools around her ankles.

Chloe’s body feels like it’s on fire. Beca’s table is cold against her skin, and the smooth surface provides a completely foreign (but wildly pleasurable) sensation on her breasts, her stomach, the overheated skin of her cheeks. She lays her palms flat on the wood and tries to breathe evenly. She’s trembling, and her breaths are shallow, and her pussy is wet and achingly empty and completely exposed.

For a few moments, she stays frozen like that. She has no idea where Beca is or what she’s doing. She can’t hear anything behind her, can’t even bring herself to crane her neck over her back to catch a glimpse of Beca’s reaction to her position. When Beca doesn’t touch her for a few long seconds, Chloe has to fight down a frustrated groan, but still, she waits.

She only has the briefest of warnings as a puff of hot air ghosts over her bare sex just a half a second before Beca’s tongue is on her. She jumps, jerking a little away from the sensation as her hips snap forward and her hands fly up to the edge of the table. Immediately she’s clenching her fists so tightly that her knuckles look white, straining above the dark wood. She bites down on her lip so hard, she can almost taste blood.

They’ve never done _this_ before. Chloe’s never been in this position before, bent over with Beca kneeling behind her, with her mouth on Chloe’s sex. She’s never felt so spread-out and exposed in her entire life. Never been so _completely_ out of her element.

She’s shaking so badly her legs can barely hold her weight.

She starts to splutter, starts to ask something, but only manages to say: “Wh—” before Beca’s hand falls to her hip. Chloe immediately snaps her jaw shut, falling silent.

“Not good?” Beca asks, sounding surprisingly concerned, her thumb barely brushing against the skin of Chloe’s lower back. Like she’s trying to soothe her.

Chloe shakes her head, because whatever feeling is currently shocking its way through her system, it _certainly_ is not ‘ _bad’_. “No, that’s not-it…” Her heart is pounding in her ears and she feels like she’s seeing spots. Her clit is so swollen at this point it feels like it’s _throbbing_. She takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “Just surprised me, that’s all.”

“So you’re…” there’s a hesitance to Beca’s tone that Chloe never expected to hear— “okay with this?”

Chloe swallows thickly. Her fingers flex, just once. “Yeah,” she says, doing her best to nod. “Definitely okay.”

“Tell me if you get uncomfortable.”

“Beca,” Chloe says, and it’s _not_ a plea (it’s _not_ ) but it’s close, and it’s enough. It’s enough to shut Beca up, enough to convince her that Chloe’s made up her mind and she’s not about to change it any time soon. One word, and that’s all Beca needs.

The tip of Beca’s tongue finds the hood of her clit and that alone is enough to make Chloe’s hips jolt once more. But then she does something so unexpected, so _filthy_ , that it makes Chloe’s toes curl and her back bend almost completely in half as she arches up. Beca flattens her tongue and drags it slowly (so _fucking_ slowly) up the length of Chloe’s sex, wet but forceful. Chloe’s teeth sink into her arm as something that can only be described as a whimper turned into a scream is wrenched from her throat. Beca does not react to her, and instead takes her sweet fucking time sliding her tongue up the length of Chloe’s cunt.

It’s not that it’s a _bad_ feeling — probably the farthest thing from it. It’s just that the stimulation, so unexpected and so direct after Beca’s extended teasing, feels _overwhelming_. It’s the most relief Chloe has gotten in nearly two hours, and it’s _heavenly_ , but she’s also already desperate for more. She’s already shaking, already gasping, already tightening around nothing. Chloe doesn’t think she’s ever felt this thoroughly not-in-control in probably her entire life.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she says, somewhere between a moan and a cry. Beca hums against her before repeating the motion, and Chloe once again has to use her teeth to clamp down on her own bicep. Her hips jolt when Beca’s tongue reaches her opening. God, she can _feel_ herself twitching with want. She almost opens her mouth to beg Beca to tongue-fuck her right there and then, but it’s like all the air has evaporated from her lungs and she can’t seem to make a sound.

Beca pulls the flat of her tongue over Chloe’s heat again, and this time Chloe can’t help but gasp. Beca’s movements start to become less purposeful, her licks losing their exploratory nature as she speeds up and finds her rhythm. Chloe sinks her nails into the wood of the table to stop herself from reaching behind her and grabbing Beca’s hair. Still, the mental picture of her holding Beca’s face against her until she’s able to grind herself to completion is enough to make her stomach clench and a send a flood of arousal slipping out of her.

She whimpers as Beca decides to focus on her clit, and when Beca’s lips wrap around the bud and she _sucks_ Chloe has to press her lips tight together to muffle her scream.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re _so_ hot, Chlo,” Beca mutters, and Chloe can’t take it anymore. She _can’t_. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough and she needs… she needs something inside of her right this second or else she’s sure she’s going to start sobbing.

“Can you…?” She’s winded like she just ran a 5-K, and she feels like she can’t form complete sentences. “Fingers?” She gasps. “It’s too-too much, I need… need…”

Beca pulls back, her hands finding Chloe’s hips and stopping there, holding her steady and still. Chloe cries out in displeasure, writhing in Beca’s hold, desperately seeking respite. “What was that?” She asks, with that fucking infuriating way she has of acting like a smug, smarmy asshole.

Chloe huffs, feeling like she might cry. _God_ , she’s been waiting _so_ _long_. “Please, Beca. Jesus, _please_ j-just… Just get up here and fuck me. _Please_.”

“For you? Aything.”

And then before she can even blink Beca is standing and she’s leaning over Chloe’s body, hips slotting against hips and front pressed to back. Two fingers find their way to Chloe’s desperate emptiness and she presses inside slowly, _so_ slowly that Chloe can feel every inch of her as she finally, _finally_ enters her. The feeling of Beca’s fingers stretching her sends a spasm all the way through her.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she hisses, her back arching up towards Beca’s touch as she braces her elbows on the table. “Fuck, Jesus _Christ_.”

Beca’s teeth loosely bite at her shoulder as she begins to move in and out, and Chloe’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation, at the pull of it. But she’s so wet, so ready, that it’s _still_ not enough.

“More,” she pants. “More, Becs, I… another. Need another.”

“Okay, Chlo,” Beca murmurs in her ear. “Okay.” She presses a third finger in with the other two and Chloe gasps at the sensation, and the slight twinge of pain that shoots through her at the stretch. Beca gives her a few moments to adapt to the feeling, and it’s only when Chloe nods fervently that she begins moving once again.

“You were so good tonight,” Beca mutters, her lips brushing against Chloe’s cheek, and Chloe’s stomach swoops and her walls flutter around Beca’s fingers. The feeling she has low in her gut is new: pleased and nervous and a little uncomfortable and preening and uncontrollably aroused. “So good. Doing what I said, touching yourself when I said, sitting still for the rest of the movie without your panties on… Do you think Stacie and Jessica knew you were dripping for me?”

“G-god… _God,_ I hope not.”

“I think they did. I think they knew the only thing you could think about was coming here as soon as possible so I could fuck you.” Beca’s fingers start to move harder, and Chloe pushes her hips back to meet her thrusts.

Beca tongues at the side of her neck, wet and sloppy, and Chloe turns her head to catch her lips in a desperate kiss. The angle is awkward and uncomfortable, but Beca’s mouth is open and her tongue is in Chloe’s mouth as she pounds into her with her fingers, and Chloe’s losing her grip on both the table and reality as she feels herself building rapidly towards her own release.

Beca’s free hand moves down to find her clit, and with one brush Chloe feels like she implodes.

Her entire body tenses and she freezes for a long second, her walls clenching around Beca’s thrusting fingers as she tries to hold them inside of her. Her mouth falls open and her breath catches in her chest and she can’t breathe, she can’t _breathe_ , she feels like she’s going to be stuck frozen in this moment forever because all of her muscles have tightened and her eyes have slammed shut and she can’t _breathe_. But then Beca’s fingers brush over her clit again. Chloe comes with her teeth biting into her arm, eyes screwed shut and throat burning in a silent scream. Her hips jerk, and Beca presses back into her, sliding her fingers back and forth through Chloe’s heat a few more times before she finally goes still. She’s as far inside as she can possibly go, and it’s _still_ not enough, but it doesn’t matter because Chloe’s already coming.

Beca’s teeth graze the shell of her ear as Chloe shudders with the force of her climax; Beca’s breath is hot on the side of her face and on her neck as she kisses her hairline, her cheek, her throat. Chloe can feel every inch of Beca’s body pressed against her back, and as she resituates herself and shifts her hips her fingers push into Chloe just a hair more and with a tight, quiet, cut-off yelp Chloe is coming for the second time in as many minutes. It’s not as big as the first, but she’s so sensitive, still rolling through the tremors of her first release, that it feels just as intense.

“Holy shit,” Beca whispers, her voice sounding surprised (and maybe a little awed), but Chloe can’t pay attention to her, not when she’s still clinging onto the table for dear life, not when Beca’s fingers are still inside of her, not while she’s still shaking with the force of her after-shocks.

They stay like that for a few long moments as Chloe finally, slowly, regains control of her own thoughts. She’s still twitching, her walls fluttering around Beca. Her heart beat is pounding through her skull and she has angry red marks and dark, wet bruises littering her arm from where her own teeth bit down. Her fingers feel like they’re going to fall off and she’s hot, overheated, and panting like she just sprinted the length of campus.

“God, that was _really_ hot,” Beca says, her voice a quiet hum. Chloe can feel the way her chest rumbles with the words, and it makes her shiver one more time.

She whimpers a little when Beca starts to slowly pull out of her, displeased at the sudden loss, at the empty feeling she’s left with when Beca’s fingers disappear from within her.

Beca shifts a little to the right so that her weight is no longer fully resting on Chloe, and she drops a hand (not the one she had been fucking her with) onto the small of Chloe’s back, rubbing tight and gentle circles there. She bends her head low. Though she can’t quite see her, Chloe can feel Beca’s eyes scanning her face, studying her with rapt and concerned attention. “You okay?” She asks, her voice softer than Chloe has heard it all night.

Chloe’s still collapsed on the table, her head pillowed on her arms, her body a shivering mess. She manages a hum and a small nod, but she can’t do much more than that. She keeps her eyes shut as she breathes deeply, still trying to recover. Her heart rate is slowly decreasing as feeling slowly returns to her extremities. It gets easier to breathe with each passing second.

Beca places a small kiss between her shoulder blades. “That was kind of intense,” she says with the lilt of a laugh in her voice. She keeps stroking Chloe’s back, the pressure light and intimate. (Chloe tries not to think of the intimacy.)

Chloe rolls over, and winces slightly as she ends up on her side. Her hips ache, her hands burn, and it feels like she somehow managed to pull every single muscle in her body. Being bent over Beca’s table, while incredibly hot, had not exactly been the world’s most comfortable position.

Beca pushes Chloe’s damp hair away from her forehead. “You should go lay down,” she says softly. “Take my bed. I’ll bring you some water.”

Chloe shakes her head but when she opens her mouth to speak, her throat is too dry to utter a sound. She swallows thickly, clears her throat, and tries again. “‘M fine,” she says, but her voice is a croak, barely-there and doing more to contradict her own words than to assuage Beca’s concern.

Beca frowns at her disbelievingly. “That was a lot, just now. Go lay down in my bed and rest for a minute. Seriously, I don’t mind.”

Chloe shakes her head again as she slowly and heavily raises herself onto her elbows. “No, that’s okay, I can just—”

Beca puts a hand on her chest, and Chloe freezes. “Chloe,” she says seriously, with her _I’m not fucking around here_ voice. “Please. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Chloe swallows once more and finally nods.

She lets Beca help her off the table, lets Beca put a hand on her shoulder to steady her swaying body. Beca catches her eye and her lips quirk up in an approximation of a smile.

Beca just fucked her within an inch of her life and here she is, standing in front of Chloe fully-dressed and most-of-the-way composed, and she’s _smiling_ at her. Chloe feels suddenly, inexplicably, like laughing.

Something flashes in Beca’s eyes, the twinkle of some sort of amusement, and without any sort of prompting whatsoever Beca stands on her toes and kisses her, as soft as she ever has. It’s nothing like their kisses from earlier — if you were to compare them you would almost hesitate to even call this one a kiss — and yet it’s enough to unsteady her all over again.

They pull away and Chloe just blinks at her. She opens her mouth and thinks about asking… about saying _something_ …

Beca smiles before pointing emphatically back towards her room. “Rest for a few minutes before you leave, okay?”

And Chloe just nods, turns on her heel and teeters, completely naked, all the way back to Beca’s bedroom.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I’ll be cross-posting these on my [ tumblr.](https://morningsound15.tumblr.com/) Come stop by and say hey.


	2. Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There’s something about being here, with the Bellas, surrounded by their loudly talking friends in a group setting in a very public place that feels… darker, almost. Dangerous._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in Chapter 3 of _Perdition._
> 
>  **EDIT:** I'm going to be going back through and re-ordering these so don't be alarmed if chapters starts disappearing -- they'll be back soon, in a more chronological order.
> 
> **
> 
> Prompt: _You said you would take prompts of the precious events, so could you write a time Beca and Chloe were turned on, but the bellas were present, like in a rehearsal idk and they couldn't wait to get out of there_

**

Every Thursday night is ‘Bellas Group Dinner Night.’ They all pile into their fairly-small kitchen as a rotating list of Bellas takes turns cooking a family-style meal for the rest of the group. The schedule goes something like: Jessica and Ashley one week, Chloe and Beca another, then Stacie and Cynthia Rose after that, then Lilly and Flo, and finally Amy, as the odd-man-out.

They learn pretty early on that no matter who she’s paired up with, when it’s Amy’s turn to cook, they’re all better off going out and eating at a restaurant, instead.

It’s safer that way.

Chloe likes Group Dinner Night. She enjoys the bonding, enjoys eating everyone’s favorite home-cooked meals, enjoys cooking for a crowd of her favorite people, enjoys the warm feeling that builds up in her chest when she looks around their house and sees all of her girls together, laughing under one roof, grinning stupidly at each other as they trade jokes and flick food back and forth.

She doesn’t mind the nights when they have to go out, either. At first it felt like an annoying chore, because any time they want to go out and actually escape Barden’s campus it takes about 90 minutes for everyone to get dressed and do their hair and makeup properly. Most nights, Chloe would rather just stay in their house and eat together in pajamas and sweats, with no makeup and no expectations and no work.

But she learns to look forward to the nights when they all swarm into the only little Italian restaurant within twenty miles and stuff their faces full of pizza and pasta while trying to keep their lipstick un-smudged.

Mostly because Stacie insists on doing Beca’s makeup before every group outing. And, well… Chloe isn’t _blind_.

Beca catches her looking, like, _all_ the time. Chloe _knows_ it isn’t subtle or secretive and she’s _pretty_ sure it isn’t allowed, what with all the unspoken rules of conduct between them, but she can’t help it. She can’t keep her eyes off of Beca. Not when she’s wearing dark jeans and her black heeled boots and her hair is curled and her eyeliner is dark and smoky and her lips are blood-red and her eyes glint hungrily back at Chloe from across the dim restaurant.

She can’t help it.

And tonight is no exception.

Usually, on nights like this, Beca likes to sit across from her. Chloe thinks it’s something about the watching, something about the way her eyes hold Chloe’s gaze and can’t let them go, something about the way she likes to make Chloe fidget in her seat, flushed and aching and uncomfortably aroused in a public setting.

Beca likes to make her squirm, likes to make her beg, likes to rile her up and keep her waiting and desperate.

Usually, Chloe doesn’t mind. (Usually she really _really_ likes it.)

But there’s something about being here, with the Bellas, surrounded by their loudly talking friends in a group setting in a _very_ public place that feels… darker, almost. Dangerous.

Usually, Beca likes to sit across from her. But today she follows closely behind Chloe as they enter the restaurant and keeps hot on her heels as Chloe slips into the corner booth. The rest of the girls fill in around them while Beca slides into the seat right next to Chloe, her mouth spread wide in a grin but her eyes flashing with something that looks like _danger_ and _mischief_ and _anticipation._

Chloe swallows thickly and tries to ignore the shiver that works its way down her spine when she feels Beca’s fingers brush the back of her hand as they reach for their menus.

It takes about ten minutes before Chloe starts to relax. Beca is animated next to her, talking easily with the other girls, her hands moving excitedly as she recounts a story from her childhood that Chloe thinks involves a cranky skunk and a neighborhood bully, but she can’t be totally sure. She’s having trouble focusing on anything with Beca sitting so close to her, pressed flush against her side, cramped and crowded into a small booth built for a party about 3 people smaller than theirs.

It takes about ten minutes for Chloe to relax, the worry and apprehension about what Beca might be thinking or planning by switching up their seating arrangements finally slipping out of her mind. Clearly she was just being paranoid. Seeing what she expected to see in the glint of Beca’s eyes, not what was actually there. Projecting some sort of fantasy onto a completely innocent situation.

So, ten minutes into their outing, Chloe finally starts to relax.

But it’s almost like Beca can read her mind, because almost the exact _minute_ she starts to unwind, right after the waitress arrives with all of their drinks, Beca makes her move.

A hand falls onto her leg, right above her knee, and Chloe chokes on her drink.

Stacie and Cynthia laugh at her. “Too strong for you, Chlo?” Stacie asks with a grin as Chloe splutters and coughs, trying to regain her voice. She shakes her head, eyes watering, and the girls laugh again.

“Don’t go crazy tonight, Chloe,” Cynthia Rose teases, “I’m not carrying your drunk ass home at nine o’clock.”

More laughter, and Beca starts moving her thumb in slow circles on the bare skin of Chloe’s thigh.

Chloe drops a hand on top of hers, stilling Beca’s fingers. “What are you doing?” She hisses, voice almost imperceptible over the _Best of the 80’s_ playlist that filters through the speakers around the restaurant. She keeps her eyes forward, not willing to risk looking at Beca, not willing to risk drawing attention to them or to Beca’s hand that is so _obviously_ in her lap.

“Put your napkin on your lap,” Beca says just as quietly, her voice a whisper in Chloe’s ear.

Chloe’s heart rate picks up. “Beca…”

“Napkin.”

She’s breathing heavily now but she tries to hide it.

Shivers.

Does what she’s told.

Beca’s fingers are still tracing a slow and easy pattern on Chloe’s thigh, lingering just at the edge of the hem of her skirt. Just on the safe side of appropriate. Chloe finds herself drifting in the feel of it, her eyes glazing over as she tries to steady her breathing and her heart rate, her mouth open and eyes unfocused on the table in front of her as the Bellas start throwing around song suggestions for their next group karaoke night.

Beca pinches her thigh and Chloe inhales sharply. It snaps her back to reality.

She blinks quickly a few times, her eyes flicking up to catch the gaze of the waitress who’s staring at her politely, pen poised above pad of paper.

Chloe flushes, clears her throat, and orders the first pasta dish she sees on the menu, not even bothering to check what’s in it.

The waitress smiles as she takes Chloe’s menu from her and the conversation resumes at the table, the noise a wash of indiscernible sounds over Chloe’s ears.

Beca hasn’t stopped running her fingers over her skin.

In fact, her hand is drawing higher on Chloe’s thigh with every passing minute.

Chloe shifts in her seat. She can feel herself getting wetter by the second. Her nipples are drawn and tight, her body fighting against shudders that threaten to overtake her.

She really hopes that if anyone notices they’ll just think she’s cold.

Beca is still engaging in calm conversation with the rest of the Bellas, laughing at all the right parts of their stories and lamenting with them about homework and papers and deadlines and terrible professors.

Chloe shakes her head and tries to focus in on what they’re saying, but it’s impossible.

Beca’s hand reaches the juncture of her thighs.

Her knuckle brushes against the front of Chloe’s underwear and Chloe has to tense every muscle in her legs to stop from arching into the touch. She puts her elbows on the table, fingers laced, hands up near her chin like she’s about to start praying. She clenches her fingers tightly, hoping that no one can tell what she’s doing.

Beca’s long, sure fingers shift the fabric beneath them to the side. When she feels how wet Chloe already is, she smirks.

From behind the shelter of her hands, Chloe takes in a deep, shuddering breath. Bites her knuckle to stop from whimpering.

Beca’s fingers trail slowly over her sex, applying next to no pressure. Light. Teasing. Ghosting.

She shifts her hand. Makes like she’s about to press inside, and Chloe’s hips shift forward, only slightly, trying to urge her in.

She’s aching. Desperate. Her leg shakes under the table and she’s hardly touched the plate of food in front of her. (She hadn’t even noticed it get dropped off.)

“You okay, Chloe?” Chloe’s eyes shoot up to meet Amy’s worried gaze and the flush on her cheeks rises. Her heart hammers in her chest and she thinks _Oh God they know they caught you_ as Beca’s hand slowly withdraws from her, retracting to her own lap. “You look sick, and you’ve barely touched your pasta.” Amy eyes her plate of food, curiously. “Are you going to eat that, by the way? Or is it up for grabs?”

Chloe smiles, her eyes pinched tightly around the edges. “All yours, Amy.” Amy fist-pumps as she slides Chloe’s mostly-untouched plate of food towards herself.

Almost the entire rest of the table is now watching her. “Actually,” she says, clearing her throat and faking a cough, “I think I might be coming down with something.”

“Oh no,” Jessica looks understandingly worried. “You know there’s a flu going around? Like four people were gone from my Psych class today because of it.”

Chloe nods and hopes the flush on her skin and the glassy look in her eyes can be easily attributed to fever. “Yeah, that sounds right. I’ve been feeling pretty sick, recently.” She tries not to glance at Beca out of the corner of her eye. “So I think I’m going to head back to the house.”

“We’ll come with you!” Stacie says, moving to collect her things. “You shouldn’t walk all the way back by yourself. Not when you’re sick.”

“No, no,” Chloe insists, grabbing her wallet off the table. “I don’t want to ruin your night out.”

“Yeah,” Beca agrees, head turned to Chloe, “you guys stay here. I’ll walk her back.”

“You sure?” Amy asks around a mouthful of pasta, looking very much like she’s in no hurry to leave.

Chloe and Beca both nod. “Yeah,” Chloe says, “I don’t need more than one person to come with me. I’ll just make some soup and call it an early night.”

The girls look sympathetic but they all easily agree to the plan.

Chloe grabs her coat and presses a $10 bill into Stacie’s hand as she passes by her on the way out the door. The Bellas call out their well-wishes, their ‘ _Feel better, Chloe’_ s and ‘ _Get well soon’_ s.

Chloe smiles and waves and leads Beca out of the restaurant with a firm grip on her wrist.

They make it a block and a half before Chloe whips around and shoves Beca back against the brick wall of some small boutique or another. Her kiss is hungry, and Beca doesn’t even hesitate. She pushes back, her lips eager and insistent and there’s desperation on Chloe’s tongue as Beca swallows the gasp that works its way out of her lips. There’s a hand in her hair and nails digging into the exposed skin on her back and Chloe’s head falls back as Beca migrates down to her neck, her teeth sucking on Chloe’s collarbone.

“You drive me crazy,” Chloe whispers into the night. Beca hums into her skin, her mouth busy with its ministrations. Chloe closes her eyes and bites her lip to stop from moaning. “I can’t believe you, sometimes.”

Beca pulls away and grins. “You love it.”

And, well, she _might_ be right, but Chloe’s never going to admit that to her.

Instead of answering she threads her fingers through Beca’s and drags her back in the direction of their house.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I will be cross-posting these on my [ tumblr. ](https://morningsound15.tumblr.com/)


	3. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Her eyes flutter open and her gaze falls immediately to Beca._
> 
> _Beca, who has been watching her intently for the past twenty-five minutes, who even now is boring holes into the side of Chloe’s head, staring daggers at the man behind her._
> 
> _He slides his hands around to lay flat against her stomach and Chloe curves back into him, her eyes locked with Beca’s the entire time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if you wanted smut, anon, but you got smut. So either I’m sorry or you’re welcome, whichever one is right.
> 
> (Also truth time I wrote this when I was a little drunk last night but it actually turned out not-terrible so I’m proud of my drunk self.)
> 
> This takes place in Chapter 3 of _Perdition._
> 
> **
> 
> Prompt: _Hey you! I would love to have a prompt with a bit of jealousy. Like the Bellas are in a club or bar and some nice guy is flirting with Chloe.. something like that maybe? :)_

**

Chloe’s never been very big on clubbing, as a general rule. She likes drinking, she likes dancing, and she likes parties, but there’s something about the combination of the three inside of a packed club with sweaty bodies pressed against her that has the tendency to turn Chloe off to the whole endeavor.

She’s never been very big on clubbing.

But the combined persuasive power of Stacie, Ashley, and Cynthia Rose convinces her that it’ll be a fun time, that it’ll be worth it to abandon her books and go out and get a little drunk and act a little crazy with the rest of her friends. Even if it’s just this once.

Now that the rest of the Bellas have finally all turned 21 and can easily get into clubs and bars without worrying about fake IDs, Chloe has more of an incentive to go out with them. Partly because it’s one less thing she has to coordinate, and partly because she doesn’t feel quite so old and out of place anymore, now that they can all legally drink. The age gap between them feels less insurmountable.

For whatever reason, Stacie, Ashley, and Cynthia Rose don’t have a terribly difficult time convincing her to join them on their night out.

It’s a Friday night, Chloe is 24, and she figures… _What the fuck, might as well._

The club is dark, the bass pumping so loudly that Chloe can feel it vibrating her sternum. Stacie is well on her way to drunk thanks to the pre-gaming that took place at the Bellas house, Amy disappeared about three seconds after they walked through the door, and Cynthia Rose is already badgering the DJ into playing some old Destiny’s Child hit.

All in all, a pretty standard night out with this group of people.

Chloe rolls her eyes and heads for the bar.

She orders two drinks over the course of two songs and downs them quickly, not really trying to get _drunk_ so much as trying to get _just drunk enough_ to actually enjoy herself.

She’s well past tipsy by the time the fourth song ends.

She sips on her fourth (fifth?) drink as her eyes skim across the crowd.

Her eyes flit over Ashely, Jessica, and Lilly, dancing erratically in a group together in the middle of the crowd. Amy is still nowhere to be seen. Stacie is sandwiched between two different men, her fingers tugging through one’s hair as the other caresses her sides, his mouth pressed to her neck. Cynthia Rose is chatting easily with a girl at the end of the bar, laughing loudly whenever she cracks a joke.

Chloe smiles behind her glass, happy her friends seem to be having a good time, at the very least.

A sure hand on the small of her back makes her turn around, her head cocked to the side, curious. A man stands next to her. He has a scruffy beard and glasses and his dark hair falls over his forehead almost into his eyes.

He smiles at her. “Hi,” he says, half-shouting to be heard over the thumping of the music. “I’m Tim. You’re Chloe, right?” Chloe nods, though she’s fairly certain she’s never seen this man before in her life so she’s not entirely sure how he knows her name. “We had Philosophy together last year,” Tim shouts, recognizing the confused expression on her face and the fact that she clearly cannot place him. “Professor Miller?”

“Oh, right,” Chloe says, because she _did_ take that class last year but she still _swears_ she doesn’t recognize this guy for the life of her.

“You probably wouldn’t know me,” he says, leaning forward and bringing his mouth close to her ear. “I sat behind you. I asked you for a pen one time?”

Chloe shakes her head, grimacing in a way that she hopes isn’t entirely off-putting. “Sorry, Tim.”

He shrugs, looking nonplussed. “No worries. I’m told I have a pretty forgettable face.” He glances behind her, making eye contact with the bartender and gesturing with his hand. “What are you drinking?” He looks back at her and Chloe notices for the first time how blue his eyes are. “Mind if I buy the next round?”

Chloe opens her mouth, the word “ _No_ ” already halfway out of her lips, when she catches sight of a familiar figure by the door.

Beca has just walked in. Beca, who hates clubs maybe even more than Chloe, who can’t stand going out or getting dressed up just to get trashed with a bunch of strangers she’s never seen before. Beca, who none the less has her hair done and her makeup carefully drawn, looking perfectly unflustered and not-at-all-sweaty even though it feels about 95 degrees inside this building. Beca, who has her boyfriend’s hand gripped loosely in hers as she leads him through the crowd towards Lilly, Ashley, and Jessica, a wide smile on her face as she laughs at something Jesse whispers in her ear.

Chloe blinks a few times, suddenly feeling much drunker than she is.

Her eyes flit back to Tim, who’s standing in front of her holding two drinks and smiling a crooked smile.

Chloe smiles back, takes the drink he passes her, and downs it in one go.

He grins wider. Tosses his own drink back. “Nice,” he says, leaning back over the bar and gesturing for two more, “I love a girl who can drink.”

Chloe sighs. “Please stop talking,” she says with only a hint of malice.

Tim shrugs. Offers her another drink, which she takes gratefully.

His eyes dart down her body. Back up to her face. “You wanna dance?” He asks, and Chloe — even though she feels like she’s at some terrible junior prom wherein she has to watch the girl she’s crushing on dance with the star quarterback while she gets stuck with his slightly-less-attractive-best-friend — agrees, and lets him lead her into the throng of the crowd.

~~

She’s pretty drunk at this point. All of those cocktails in such a short amount of time have finally started to catch up with her, and every time she moves her head it feels like the world tips completely on its side.

Tim’s hands are warm on her hips, drawing her back flush against his front. She reaches up behind her, tangling her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to her. His breath is hot on her neck, his teeth sharp as they nip at the edge of her jaw. Chloe smiles into the feeling and grinds back against him, the bulge in his pants rubbing against the curve of her ass.

Her eyes flutter open and her gaze falls immediately to Beca.

Beca, who has been watching her intently for the past twenty-five minutes, who even now is boring holes into the side of Chloe’s head, staring daggers at the man behind her.

He slides his hands around to lay flat against her stomach and Chloe curves back into him, her eyes locked with Beca’s the entire time.

She watches Beca’s knuckles go white, curled around her glass.

Jesse is next to her, hovering near her elbow, chatting animatedly with another Treble they’ve just happened to run into. He throws his head back and laughs as the other guy punches him on the arm good-naturedly, but Chloe isn’t looking at him, can’t watch him, can’t care at all about what he’s getting up to. Not when Beca is looking at her like that.

Tim’s mouth is hot against her neck and his hands are hot against her abdomen and Beca’s withering glare is hot and burning her for entirely different reasons.

Chloe smirks at her. She can see Beca’s nostrils flare from across the room.

She turns in her spot, her fingers still buried in Tim’s hair. When he kisses her his mouth is warm but too big. His beard scratches her chin and his tongue is uncoordinated as it slides over her lips, but Chloe’s drunk and she doesn’t care. She _can’t_ care.

Because Beca is here. She’s here with _Jesse_ but she’s spent every second of the last thirty minutes tracking Chloe’s every movement.

So if she’s gonna watch, Chloe’s gonna put on a show.

The music is thrumming through her veins, addictive and exhilarating like the best kind of drug. Chloe’s head is thick and her vision is unfocused and the whole room is spinning just a little and the guy holding her — she can’t remember his name at this point — he feels wrong, too big and gangly. He smells wrong, like Old Spice and nice cologne. Not bad but wrong.

He’s not a bad kisser but he’s not _great_ and Chloe is drunk but she’s not _so_ drunk that she feels the need to keep kissing this guy she has no interest in getting to know.

She pulls away from him and he tries to chase her mouth with his. She puts a hand on his chest, holding him at bay.

She smiles sweetly, hoping that it will stop him from asking too many questions. “Bathroom,” she shouts in the direction of his ear. She doesn’t hang around to see if he gets it, to try and keep track of him in the thick of the crowd, to try and mark his position as if she’s going to try and find him again.

She knows she’s not going to try and find him again.

She looks at Beca who is staring back at her, her eyes dark and dangerous.

Chloe bites her lip and makes a bee-line for the mostly-empty hallway that leads to the bathrooms.

She knows Beca will follow her.

 

Chloe takes her time in the bathroom. The floor is sticky, the stalls graffitied over scratched black paint. The lights are bright and fluorescent and they flicker every so often in a way that makes Chloe’s head throb. The tap at the far end of the counter leaks slowly, the _drip drip drip_ of the water impossibly loud in the empty room. Empty except for her.

She turns on the sink, letting clear and cold water circle down the drain but not touching it. Eyes herself in the mirror. Wipes at the edge of her mouth where her lipstick has smudged.

The door opens with a creak but Chloe doesn’t look away from her own calculating reflection.

She’s drunk. The longer she looks at herself the more she feels it. Her eyes blink back at her sluggishly. The bathroom is too bright for how her head feels.

She knows Beca is watching her. “What are you playing at, Chloe?”

Chloe huffs. Yanks a few paper towels out of the dispenser next to the sink even though she doesn’t need them. She makes eye contact with Beca’s reflection. “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Beca’s eyes flash. Her nostrils flare again. “Like hell it’s not.”

Chloe turns around. Leans her hip against the dirty countertop and folds her arms over her chest. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Beca arches an eyebrow. “You didn’t want me to follow you in here?”

Chloe huffs and shifts her weight. “No,” she lies.

Beca takes a step forward, her face drawn and her expression dangerous. “Were you gonna go home with him?”

Chloe gulps. Drops her hands to grip at the counter. “Beca…”

Beca is now completely in her space. Her breath ghosts over Chloe’s cheeks. Her hands bracket around Chloe’s hips, trapping her in place. “Were you?”

This game they’re playing feels dangerous, the rules mostly unspoken. They know each other so well, can read each other _so well_ at this point that they almost don’t _need_ to talk about what’s going on between them, but it still feels dangerous. The truth of the matter is Chloe always knew what she was doing, knew that she was going to rile Beca up, knew that she was _trying_ to rile Beca up, knew that she was going to draw Beca to her, silently urge her to follow her into this room. She always knew it was leading to this.

“ _No_ ,” she grits out through clenched teeth (and _God_ , she hates herself for it, but she knows it’s true. She was never going to go home with anyone but Beca).

Beca’s mouth is hot and punishing when she kisses Chloe, all biting teeth and sucking lips. Chloe whimpers as she feels Beca’s teeth scrape her skin, the taste of iron slipping over her tongue immediately after, her lip already swelling from the incessant pull of Beca’s teeth.

Beca pulls her to the side and shoves her back against the bathroom door, her hands immediately bunching Chloe’s skirt up around her waist. One hand yanks Chloe’s underwear down to her knees while the other presses tightly against her mouth to muffle the desperate little whines that Chloe can’t quite bite back.

Her fingers run roughly over Chloe’s wet sex and Chloe’s hips jump to meet her touch. Beca pushes her harder against the door, growling at her to “Stay put,” and Chloe is breathing heavily through her nose but Beca’s hand is still over her mouth and it feels like she can’t breathe.

Two fingers enter her roughly and Chloe bucks away from the wall almost on reflex, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“Is this all for him?” Beca asks, her eyes dark, makeup smudged at the corners. Her lipstick has been entirely kissed away.

Chloe whimpers and tries to shake her head but it’s hard with Beca holding her still. Beca drops her hand. “What was that?” She asks again, her voice low and somewhere between angry and aroused. “Did he do this to you? Are you this wet for _him_?”

“No,” Chloe admits, voice barely above a whisper. She tangles a hand in Beca’s hair and pulls. Her feet slip against the tiled floor, scrambling for purchase as Beca pistons inside of her. “ _Fuck_ , Beca,” she hisses.

“I can’t believe I had to watch you kiss him,” Beca mutters. She swipes her thumb over Chloe’s sensitive clit and Chloe has to clamp down on her own lip to stop from screaming. “Can’t believe I had to watch you dance with him. Tease him, like you were gonna let him fuck you. Like you were gonna let anyone but me fuck you tonight.”

“Jesus Christ, Becs.”

Beca kisses her, swallowing Chloe’s quiet moans. She changes the angle of her thrusts and Chloe gasps, her breathing heavy and loud. She arches into the touch, her teeth clenched tight as she comes with only a tiny whimper.

All the muscles in her legs seize and she shakes, clenching around Beca’s fingers.

Beca’s lips never leave hers, but the pressure behind them softens slightly, Beca’s mouth opening a little, her tongue becoming more languid as she slows the pace of her thrusting fingers.

Chloe whimpers when she finally withdraws them.

“Are you going home alone tonight?” Beca asks her quietly, resting her hand — still wet with Chloe’s arousal — against the bare skin of Chloe’s hip. Chloe nods once, her limbs loose as she tries to get her breathing under control. Beca smiles and it’s the sincerest smile Chloe’s seen all night. She kisses her. “Good,” she whispers against Chloe’s lips. Her hands are gentle as she tugs Chloe’s underwear back up her thighs, as she pulls Chloe’s skirt back down and smooths down the creases in the fabric. “Then I’ll see you tonight.”

And Chloe is helpless to do anything but nod.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I’ll be cross-posting these on my [ tumblr.](https://morningsound15.tumblr.com/)


	4. Bondage (An Evolution of Kink Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chloe (6:45 p.m.)**   
>  _If I asked you to tie me up_
> 
> **Chloe (6:45 p.m.)**   
>  _Would you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of a two-part exploration into some of the kinkier shit that’s really only been hinted at in the previous parts of this story.
> 
> So… pray for me y’all I need Jesus after this.
> 
> This takes place somewhere over the course of Chapters 2 through 4 of _Perdition._
> 
> **
> 
> Prompt 1: _Since the last prompt fill brought up the handcuffs and rope burns I'd kinda like to read more about them... Maybe how they built up to it, who brought it up first, etc. An evolution of kink._
> 
> Prompt 2: _When they used a blindfold_
> 
> Prompt 3: _When they used Beca's handcuffs –b_

**

Chloe’s never really thought of herself as particularly… ‘kinky’. For lack of a better word.

She’s always been open with her sexuality. She’s always been down to experiment with different kinds of people and genders and body types and different aspects of sex and sexuality. But in terms of ‘kinks’?

She just never really got around to that sort of thing.

Not until Beca, at least.

It starts off simple enough. The first time it happens it doesn’t even really count as anything _kinky_. At least not in Chloe’s opinion. It’s nothing she’s never done before.

Beca has her pressed to the bed. She’s grinding down on Chloe’s thigh, her teeth sharp against the soft skin of Chloe’s lip. Chloe moves on instinct, reaching her hands up to fist the loose strands of Beca’s hair between her fingers. She arches upward, pressing her thigh against Beca’s clothed sex and Beca growls against her mouth.

Chloe smirks and tugs on Beca’s hair, enough pressure to pull her head back completely, forcing Beca to pull away so she is straddling Chloe completely upright.

The look she shoots Chloe is dark and hungry.

Beca grabs Chloe’s wrists and rips them from her hair. She presses her body completely down onto Chloe’s, stretching her arms above her head so that Chloe’s fingertips brush her own headboard.

Beca smirks as she brings Chloe’s arms together above her head. She holds her wrists together with one hand and Chloe squirms at the feeling of being restrained. It’s unfamiliar, but it isn’t _unpleasant_.

“Keep your hands there,” Beca mutters in her ear right before she presses a hot kiss to Chloe’s jaw. Her free hand slips down Chloe’s abdomen. Chloe whimpers and her stomach clenches. “If you lift them off the bed, I’ll stop.” She shudders.

Chloe thrashes against Beca’s hold, but it’s mostly for show. She’s stronger than Beca, taller than her, and if she wanted to switch up their positions Beca would roll with Chloe’s incessant movements. She knows she could throw Beca off of her in a heartbeat, if she wanted to.

But she doesn’t want to.

The angle is a little awkward, what with Beca’s arms stretched to almost their limit trying to simultaneously keep her pinned down and fuck her. Her fingers slip a little against Chloe’s lips before they press inside her. Her nails dig a little painfully into Chloe’s wrists when Chloe jerks in response to being unexpectedly filled.

But she does it. She pulls it off remarkably well.

And for days after, Chloe can’t stop thinking about it.

**

 **Chloe (6:32 p.m.)**  
_If I tell you I want to try something  
will you judge me for it?_

**Becs (6:35 p.m.)  
** _what, like… at rehearsal?_

**Chloe (6:35 p.m.)  
** _No. not rehearsal._

**Becs (6:35 p.m.)  
** _ok…?_

**Becs (6:36 p.m.)**  
_Are you talking about that  
_ _new indian place?_

**Becs (6:38 p.m.)**  
_Because im down if you want  
_ _to grab dinner_

**Chloe (6:45 p.m.)  
** _If I asked you to tie me up_

**Chloe (6:45 p.m.)  
** _Would you?_

**Becs (6:45 p.m.)  
** _fuck_

**Becs (6:45 p.m.)  
** _yeah. yeah i could do that._

**Chloe (6:46 p.m.)  
** _Okay._

**Chloe (6:50 p.m.)  
** _Tonight?_

**Becs (6:51 p.m.)  
** _jesus_

**Chloe (6:51 p.m.)  
** _Oh are you busy?_

**Becs (6:55 p.m.)  
** _No. no I am definitely not busy._

~~

“So you really want to do this?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot and doing some research and… yeah. I wanna try.”

Beca, for all of her earlier bravado, swallows thickly. Chloe sits cross-legged on her perfectly made bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. All in all, she feels strangely calm about this whole thing. A little nervous, maybe, but mostly just excited. Not really anxious, like she thought she would feel.

Maybe that’s down to the way Beca agreed so readily, with no hesitation and no judgment. Maybe it’s the way that Beca herself looks like she’s about to vibrate out of her skin, her eyes darting everywhere except Chloe’s face, and Chloe’s always believed that the more anxious people are around her the more convicted she becomes. The need to be self-assured in the face of others’ indecision sort of forces confidence on her.

She picks at the loose skin around her nail and focuses on not shifting around where she sits. Just _talking_ about this with Beca already has her considerably aroused. Something low in her stomach clenches when Beca bites her lip, her brow furrowed, still looking a little concerned.

“You’ll… stop me, right?” She asks, and Chloe doesn’t think she’s ever seen Beca so nervous about sex. Usually she’s all confident swagger and smirking lips and assertive touches and strong movements. Seeing her like this is sort of a welcome departure, in Chloe’s opinion. “If it… if you don’t like it?”

Chloe nods and reaches down, grasping the edge of her shirt. She pulls it up and over her head, leaving her completely topless in front of Beca. “I really think I’m going to like it.”

Beca swallows again, her eyes fixed pointedly to Chloe’s face. “Not the point,” she says softly, a little out of breath. She looks completely serious.

Chloe pushes herself up onto her knees. She crawls forward slowly, giving Beca enough time to move away or stop her if she wants to. But Beca just watches her approach.

Chloe reaches across the bed and grabs Beca by the neck of her t-shirt. “I’ll stop you if I don’t like it,” she mutters right before she pulls Beca down to her.

She sees Beca nod before she brings their lips together, and then everything starts to get easier. Beca’s breathing steadies, her hands travel the familiar trip between Chloe’s breasts and waist, her hips slot perfectly between Chloe’s own spread legs.

Her hands shake a little, when they ghost over Chloe’s ribs, but Chloe reaches down and tangles their fingers together and the trembling stops. Chloe stretches her own arms above her head, pulling Beca’s hands with her. Beca withdraws, her eyes dark as they meet Chloe’s.

Chloe grasps at her own headboard. Arches her back, cranes her neck to brush her nose against Beca’s jaw. “Please,” she whispers, dragging the word out into a sort of whine. She knows it’ll do the trick. Beca is completely helpless whenever Chloe starts to beg.

Just as Chloe predicted, Beca’s eyes harden, her mouth setting with determination. She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out two crumpled pieces of fabric. Chloe’s heart jumps and her stomach swoops at the fact that she came prepared. That she was invested enough in this scenario to think ahead, to bring her own ties, just in case Chloe didn’t have anything suitable.

When she recognizes the cloth clenched in Beca’s hands, Chloe’s breathing falters for a moment.

There’s something perverse about the fact that when Beca _does_ finally tie her hands to the headboard, it’s with two Barden Bellas scarves.

She yanks the fabric into a tight knot around Chloe’s left wrist and Chloe gasps at the sensation.

Beca’s façade falls momentarily. “Too tight?” She asks worriedly.

Chloe rolls her wrist. Checks her mobility. Flexes against the restraint. Tests its strength.

Her mouth is parched, her lips impossibly dry. She shakes her head. “No,” she practically croaks, “not too tight.”

That seems to relax Beca significantly. She places a quick and dirty kiss to Chloe’s mouth before she shifts, bending over to restrain the other wrist.

When she finishes Chloe goes through the same practice. Rolls her wrist, flexes her fingers, checks to make sure her blood flow isn’t being cut off. She pulls against the fabric, trying as hard as she can to loosen it.

But Beca must have done her research, too, because the knot won’t budge. Doesn’t even slip a little as she tries to work her hands free.

Beca is sitting perched on her stomach, her eyes flitting between Chloe’s tied wrists, her curious face, and the way her bare chest heaves slightly every time she tries to struggle free. Her eyes lock with Chloe’s after about thirty seconds of experimentation. “Good?” She asks. Her face is flushed, her hair messier than usual, her clothing a little askew and her eyes blown wide, the blue of her irises completely obscured by her dilated pupils.

Chloe nods. “Good.”

Beca grins fully now. Allows her eyes to drag themselves slowly down Chloe’s half-exposed body, to take in the way Chloe’s skin is flushed from her face all the way down her chest, at the way the muscles in her stomach jump whenever Beca shifts her wait on her hips, at the way goosebumps erupt all the way up Chloe’s arms when Beca brushes her fingers against her sides.

Her grin only widens.

She pushes herself off of Chloe’s spread form, her hands making quick work of Chloe’s belt. The leather snaps as Beca yanks it through her pants, and Chloe’s hips twitch up toward the sound. Beca pops the button on her jeans and pulls them down unceremoniously quickly, dragging her underwear along with it, leaving Chloe completely naked.

Beca, on the other hand, is still fully dressed.

“Beca…” Chloe whines, tries to complain, but Beca shushes her.

“I probably should have done this slower,” she says, slinking her way back up Chloe’s body, her eyes greedily drinking in Chloe’s naked form, “made you beg for it a little more.” She nips at Chloe’s collarbone, her jaw, her neck, leaving tiny little red marks in her wake. Chloe jerks against her ties. “But I was feeling pretty impatient. And we can always go slower next time.”

Chloe whimpers at the implication, at the promise in Beca’s voice. She tugs a little harder at the scarves, now practically _aching_ to do something with her hands. To tangle her fingers in Beca’s hair and draw their mouths together. To shove Beca over and climb on top of her. To rip Beca’s shirt from her body, slip a hand down her pants.

The fact that she can’t has her groaning in frustration. She’s absolutely dripping.

She whines again, this time much louder, and once again Beca shushes her. She moves down Chloe’s body slowly. Flicks her tongue out to lightly swirl around Chloe’s aching nipple.

Chloe gasps and arches her back away from the bed, trying to force more contact between Beca’s hot mouth and her own throbbing body.

Beca is too fast for her. She pulls away quickly, her eyes gleaming with mischief and dark humor and a deep, undeniable hunger. “Oh,” she says quietly, almost to herself, “I think I’m _really_ going to enjoy this.”

**

“Am I gonna have to tie your legs down, too?”

“You could try. I’m certainly not opposed.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Will you stop fidgeting?” She asks, clearly annoyed. “ _You’re_ the one who asked for the blindfold, but I can’t very well get it on you if you keep trying to throw me off.”

“Well, I kind of thought I would be tying it myself.”

“Sorry, Chlo. You’re already cuffed to the bed.”

Chloe huffs and rattles the cold metal handcuffs against the wood. She kind of hopes they scratch Beca’s bedposts. That would teach her. “You really didn’t skimp on these, did you?”

“You’re _freakishly_ strong, dude. Those cheap plastic ones would last us like… five minutes, tops.” She crosses her arms over her chest and presses her knees together, pinching just a little at Chloe’s sides.

Chloe looks up at her and arches an eyebrow coolly. She sighs deeply. “Fine. I’ll stop. Get the blindfold on.”

Beca regards her carefully. “If you don’t want to do this—”

Chloe shakes her head fervently. “I do. I definitely do.”

“Because we can always do the blindfold some other day. The cuffs are enough of—”

“Beca,” Chloe huffs, “I said I want to.” She wriggles a little under Beca. Presses her hips up and grinds against Beca’s pussy. She bites her lip at Beca’s little grunt. “Now please deprive me of my sense of sight and then go down on me.”

Beca smirks. “You’re feeling bossy today,” she says, bending low over Chloe’s body. Her hands are gentle as she fixes the dark fabric around Chloe’s eyes, tying it off behind her head just tight enough so it doesn’t slip.

“You like when I’m bossy,” Chloe says, turning her head in Beca’s general direction.

Beca hums from somewhere above her and then she’s gone, the pressure of her body disappearing from Chloe’s with no warning whatsoever.

Chloe rolls her shoulders and cranes her neck around, trying for any glimpse of light through the fabric of the blindfold. But Beca did a good job. She can’t see anything.

Deft fingers are suddenly on the buttons of her shirt, working them slowly apart. The fabric ghosts against Chloe’s soft skin and she bites her lip, vibrating with mounting anticipation.

“Do you like it?” Beca asks her quietly, nearing the bottom of Chloe’s blouse. “Not being able to see me? Not knowing what I’m gonna do next—” Her nails scratch lightly down Chloe’s ribs, more of a tickling pressure than anything painful, but Chloe still arcs into the contact— “or where I’m gonna touch you next?” Her hands are gone from Chloe’s body immediately, and Chloe groans at the loss.

Her legs part almost without conscious thought and she growls when Beca doesn’t immediately spread them wider. “Beca, come on.”

“Isn’t the whole point of this that I’m in charge?” Beca’s half-teasing voice comes from somewhere to her right. Chloe turns her head instinctively towards the sound. “Isn’t that what you wanted, when you asked for this?” Chloe chooses to tug on the handcuffs rather than answer. But Beca doesn’t let her get away with it. “Answer me, Chloe,” she demands.

Chloe squirms on the bed. “ _Yes_ ,” she breathes.

A shifting of weight at the end of the bed. Beca’s body settles into the space between Chloe’s spread thighs.

She works very hard not to move, worried that any sudden movement will make Beca pull away and reprimand her again, but she can still feel her knees trembling.

“So are you going to let me do what I want or are you going to keep sassing me?” Chloe shakes her head vehemently. “Good.” Chloe jumps as Beca’s breath ghosts against her bare skin.

The waiting is torture. The inability to see where exactly Beca is, the inability to touch her, to guide her, to track her movements, is the most _delicious_ kind of torture.

Chloe waits with baited breath for long moments, energy thrumming through her body.

All she can do is wait, completely immobilized, for Beca to bite the bullet and take pity on her.

Chloe clenches around nothing, her own ragged breath echoing loudly in the silent room.

Beca’s tongue brushes against her clit and Chloe’s hips snap up as she tries to grind against the pressure of Beca’s mouth. She pulls against her restraints, the metal digging into the bones of her wrists. She’ll surely be bruised tomorrow, but at the moment she couldn’t care less about anything in the entire world.

“Fuck, Beca.”

“You remember the safe word?” Beca asks, her breath feather-light against Chloe’s hot arousal.

“Yes, God, fuck Beca. I remember. I remember. Just please, please…”

Chloe’s pleas are cut off with a gasp when Beca’s tongue touches her again. A slow, broad, and deliberate lick that sends shockwaves all the way up Chloe’s spine.

She yelps and wraps her legs around Beca’s back, squeezing tightly as Beca focuses her attention on Chloe’s hyper-sensitive clit.

“I’m definitely tying your legs down, next time,” Beca growls against her.

“Beca if you don’t put your mouth back on me I swear to God…”

“Bossy as hell,” Beca grumbles, but Chloe can feel the side of her mouth quirk up against the skin of her thigh, so her exasperation is definitely just for show. Chloe opens her mouth to snap back at her, but then Beca’s fingers are pressing inside her entrance, her tongue returning to its punishing tempo against her clit, and Chloe can’t breathe anymore.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I’ll be cross-posting these on my [ tumblr.](https://morningsound15.tumblr.com/)


	5. Noticed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Amy is a lot of things, but ‘oblivious’ is not one of them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in Chapter 3 of _Perdition._
> 
> **
> 
> Prompt 1: _The view of one of the girls, a moment where they noticed what was going on (no need to be the first time)_
> 
> Prompt 2: _woooow, i love this concept ! i would love to see more of them "falling in love" or being extremely obvious about their affair like in the kitchen scene or even Fat Amy figuring it all out._

**

Amy is a lot of things, but ‘oblivious’ is not one of them.

She isn’t shy. She’s never _been_ shy. She’s loud and brash and completely honest 100% of the time. She thinks the worst thing a person could possibly be is dishonest — about themselves, about other people, about anything. She abhors dishonesty. Lying makes her feel sick to her stomach.

She’s honest. She’s honest and loyal and outgoing and sociable, funny and quick to crack a joke, the first one to start ribbing on her friends in the middle of an awkward situation. She breaks ice, relieves tension, and tries her damndest to always be the life of the party.

So, Amy is a lot of things, but ‘oblivious’ is not one of them.

She is, and always has been, extraordinarily perceptive. It’s something not a lot of people give her credit for. Not her parents, not her art teacher when she was 15 and adamant about learning to perfect painting the ‘ _naked male form_ ,’ not the old man who lived in the Outback who taught her how to shoot a bow and arrow when she was 10 years old, and _certainly_ not her roommate.

Amy thinks she should probably be insulted. Beca must think she’s the stupidest person on the planet if she’s convinced that her charade is fooling her even a little.

She _should_ be insulted. But mostly she just finds herself exhausted by the lengths to which Beca goes to hide her _very_ obvious affair with Chloe.

Because really, at this point? They’re only keeping it a secret by default, by not explicitly telling everyone they know that they’ve been regularly fucking. There’s nothing discrete about them, and it’s ridiculous that they think they’re being anything close to secretive.

Look, it’s none of Amy’s business. She likes Jesse just _fine_ , but she likes Beca and Chloe a hell of a lot more, and if you ask her she’d tell you they’re both being moronic by dancing around this thing that they have going on. She’s never met two people more supremely well-suited for each other in her entire life, and the fact that they clearly refuse to talk about it infuriates the hell out of her.

These two idiots just need to get their heads out of their asses and figure it all out.

They really are exhausting.

~~

She figures it out entirely on her own. She wants to make that very clear. No one tells her, she doesn’t walk in on any sort of compromising situation, and she _definitely_ doesn’t see any incriminating texts while she’s digging through Beca’s purse looking for $20.

She figures it out on her _own_.

(It isn’t like they make it difficult.)

There’s fact that Beca is _frequently_ gone from their room but Amy hears Jesse complain nearly every time she’s around him that the Bellas are hogging all of his ‘ _Beca time_ ,’ so she knows she isn’t off at his place.

There’s the fact that sometimes Chloe decides to wear sweaters and scarves in the middle of spring and Amy _knows_ it isn’t because of her quirky fashion sense because one time she sees a peek of Chloe’s neck, marked red and purple with love bites (like they’re in middle school or something, Jesus Christ), and another time Chloe lets her sweater fall down to her elbows as she’s digging through one of the taller cabinets for a bowl for her cereal and Amy can see something that looks distinctly like rope burn around her wrists.

There’s the fact that Beca leaves a set of handcuffs locked to her headboard one day, and while Amy has to admit she doesn’t know a _ton_ about Beca and Jesse’s relationship she’s almost _positive_ that they aren’t for any of _their_ kinky sex acts.

There’s the fact that Chloe turns red in the face when Beca stares at her for too long. The fact that Chloe hasn’t dated anyone in nearly four years; not since she met Beca. The fact that Beca goes quiet and glum and practically murderous whenever she sees someone hand Chloe a drink in a bar or ask her for her number over coffee. The fact that Amy starts to find bits of Chloe’s wardrobe scattered around their shared bedroom in the oddest places (a bra behind Beca’s desk, a jean skirt in the shower, a button up shirt on the floor with more than a few buttons missing). The fact that Chloe slinks and ducks out of the room whenever Jesse shows up, the fact that she goes into a depressive spiral whenever Beca goes home with him for the holidays (it only happens twice but those are some of the darkest days Amy can remember).

Honestly, they could both do to learn a little bit of subtlety. But Beca especially needs to brush up on her covert lying-my-ass-off-to-my-boyfriend mannerisms.

Sometimes Amy feels like she isn’t even _trying_ anymore.

~~

She figures it out on her own, but once she knows it’s like she can’t stop seeing evidence of their relationship everywhere.

And these two idiots _clearly_ can’t keep it in their pants longer than five damn minutes.

God, sometimes she thinks they aren’t even _trying_.

They disappear together at frat parties, Beca’s fingers tangled in Chloe’s as she drags her into a spare bedroom or an upstairs bathroom, totally out in the open for just anyone to see or notice.

They duck out of group dinners early with flimsy excuses while they exchange hungry looks, like they think none of the other girls are going to catch on to what they’re up to.

They disappear for long weekends, squirreled away up into Chloe’s bedroom to ostensibly ‘ _brainstorm setlists’_ no matter what time of year it is or if they have any competitions coming up.

Beca will sneak out of her bed in the middle of the night, long after she thinks Amy’s fallen asleep, and Amy won’t see her until the next morning.

They stop talking. Sometimes for weeks at a time. With little to no explanation given to the rest of the group. Amy knows when they’re fighting because group dinners are particularly icy, because Beca and Chloe avoid each other’s gaze at rehearsal, and because the weeks when they’re fighting are the only times Amy can reliably count on her roommate _actually_ spending the entire night in her own bed.

Most of the time, Amy thinks she’s the only one who notices what’s going on between them because she’s the only one who is supposed to see Beca every single day. None of the other girls notice if Beca isn’t in her bed, if she leaves the room at two in the morning, if she starts hiding her phone when she goes to the bathroom, if she stays up until the early hours of the morning restlessly turning over and over in her bed, if she wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, if she starts getting dark bags under her eyes, if her expression flashes with the smallest amount of panic whenever Chloe’s name is brought up unexpectedly.

She thinks she might be the only one who notices.

But for _fuck’s sake_ , they could try and make it a little harder, couldn’t they?

Like, one time, in the middle of the damn afternoon, she walks in on them full on making out in the kitchen. In their _shared_ kitchen! In the _middle of the afternoon_!

Chloe has Beca pressed up against their refrigerator, Beca’s hands slowly running through Chloe’s hair, their lips moving lazily against each other like they’re in no rush at all. Beca is smiling into Chloe’s mouth, and Amy would think it was almost _cute_ if she didn’t _also_ think it was so fucking _reckless_ of them.

So she slips out the way she came, out the back door, without making a sound. She takes a breath while she’s out there, waits a beat, and then stomps up the stairs. “Who’s home and wants to make me lunch!” She calls as loudly as she can, taking care to slam the door behind her before taking heavy, deliberate steps into the kitchen.

When she gets there they’re standing almost ten feet apart, looking the picture of perfect innocence except for Chloe’s messy hair and a flush that creeps its way slowly up Beca’s neck.

They barely look at each other while Chloe starts to dig through the fridge. Beca slips out the front door mumbling something about “ _Class_ ” and Amy watches her go, feeling monumentally sad.

And maybe also a little disappointed.

 

She thinks that she should tell Jesse. She really, seriously considers it.

God, she almost tells him so many times.

But she doesn’t. She _can’t_. She feels like she should but she also feels like it isn’t her business. She likes Jesse a lot, but her loyalty lies with Beca, Chloe, and the other Bellas before anything or anyone else.

She feels like she should tell him but she isn’t sure if it’s really her place.

She doesn’t know what Beca and Chloe are playing at with this whole business, but she knows that it isn’t right. She doesn’t know if they’re both struggling through some serious internalized homophobia, if they’re just using each other for the physical relief, if they’re in some sort of serious denial. She’s not sure if they’re both sociopaths who don’t care about the feelings of the people around them (although she’s _pretty_ sure that one’s not true), or whatever else. There could be a million reasons for why they’re doing what they’re doing.

Amy doesn’t know what their deal is but she knows they need to figure their shit out and fast.

Otherwise it’s going to end up ruining their lives.

That’s one thing of which she _is_ certain.

~~

“Hey, Amy? Can I ask you… kind of a crazy question?”

Amy cracks her knuckles and stretches, throwing her feet up onto the coffee table in front of her. “Fire away, hot stuff,” she says, throwing Stacie a perfectly-executed wink.

Stacie glances over at Cynthia Rose. They both look equally nervous as they sit gingerly on the other side of the couch.

Amy turns to pay them her almost-undivided attention. (She has to keep one ear on the _Jeopardy!_ game playing out on her daytime TV program, obviously. Otherwise, though… full attention.)

Cynthia Rose clears her throat. “So… we might be crazy…”

“We definitely think we’re a little crazy,” Stacie interjects.

Cynthia Rose frowns. “Right…” she says carefully. “Either way. You… you live with Beca, right?”

Amy squints at her. “Did you forget?”

“No. No, it’s just…” Stacie and Cynthia Rose exchange a significant look. “Have you noticed her acting… odd, recently?”

“A little off, maybe?” Stacie continues. “Secretive? Disappearing at weird times and acting vaguely hostile when we ask her about where she’s been?”

Amy regards them with a look of pure concentration. She weighs her words carefully. Brings her hands together, her fingers forming a bridge that rests against the tip of her nose. She purses her lips. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”

Cynthia Rose’s face is carefully impassive. “What do you _think_ we’re asking you?”

“Well, if you’re asking me whether or not Beca and Chloe are secretly having a prolonged sexual affair, then the answer is an affirmative ‘ _yes’_.” She yawns again and turns back to the TV. “You don’t have to play coy. We all know, by now.”

The murmur of the TV is the only sound in the room. Amy blinks and looks back at her two friends.

Stacie and Cynthia Rose are sitting completely still, their mouths wide open, identical expressions of disbelieving horror on their faces. “I’m sorry…” Cynthia Rose finally says, looking completely rattled. She shakes her head and snaps her mouth shut. “They _what_ now?”

Amy swallows thickly. “Oops.”

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I’ll be cross-posting these on my [ tumblr.](https://morningsound15.tumblr.com/)


	6. Oblivious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She doesn't get sick very often. But when she does, it totally knocks her on her ass._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in Chapter 4 of _Perdition._
> 
> **
> 
> Prompt: _One time Beca tried to be romantic/kind/like a real girlfriend, but Chloe didn't catch on._

**

Chloe doesn’t get sick very often. She had perfect attendance all through Elementary and Middle School and only missed two days in High School, and one of those was for her getting her wisdom teeth out. And even then, she went back to school immediately after, her face swollen to almost twice its usual size and her jaw clenched tightly against the pain.

She consumes more than her daily amount of Vitamin C consistently, works out regularly, drinks 8 cups of water a day, and always makes sure to eat the American Heart Association’s recommended number of fruit and vegetable servings per day.

She doesn’t get sick very often. But when she does, it totally knocks her on her ass.

~~

She sleeps through her 8:30 class. That’s the first indication that something’s wrong with her — Chloe _never_ sleeps through her classes.

The second indication that something’s well and truly wrong with her comes when she finally pushes herself up in bed at 10:22 in the morning. Her eyes feel like they’re stapled shut, her mouth is dry as a bone, and there’s a throbbing pressure behind her eyes that makes her groan as she presses her fingers to her temples.

She knows she’s sick, but she still tries to push through it.

She makes it as far as the kitchen.

Her hair is messily done, she’s wearing absolutely no makeup, and her shoes are still untied. Still, she shoulders her backpack and makes to leave the Bellas house in time for her 11:10 when a hand on her elbow pulls her to a slow and unsteady stop.

She turns around, eyesight a little bleary, and comes face-to-face with Beca’s unamused expression.

“What are you doing?” She asks, arms crossed over her chest.

“I have class,” Chloe says, wincing at the gravelly way her throat shapes her words.

Beca shakes her head. “Nope. You’re sick. Get back in bed.”

Chloe tries to push her bag higher on her shoulder, but it’s so heavy she has trouble. “I’m not sick, Beca. It’s just a cold.”

Beca huffs and yanks Chloe’s bag off her shoulder. She completely ignores Chloe’s half-hearted “Hey!” as well as her feeble attempt to get her books back from Beca’s grasp.

“No,” Beca insists, tossing Chloe’s backpack onto the couch in the living room. Chloe stares after it forlornly. “Back to bed,” Beca points back up the stairs. “You’re gonna infect everyone with your gross germs.”

“I’m honestly fine,” Chloe grumbles, but she still turns and trudges back towards the stairs.

“You’re working yourself to death, dude. With rehearsals and class and Worlds…” Beca sighs. “Just go back to bed. I’ll bring you soup at like noon. Okay?”

Chloe grumbles in response, but the second her head hits her pillow she’s asleep again.

~~

Something is shaking her shoulder.

Chloe rolls over, shoving her covers down her body. She was freezing when she fell asleep but now it feels like she’s burning alive from the inside out.

She grumbles as the thing shakes her shoulder harder.

“Chloe.” It’s Beca’s voice, but it sounds far away. Like she’s calling to her from the bottom of a well.

Chloe struggles to force her eyes open. “Beca?” She asks, blearily.

“C’mon. Sit up. You have to eat something.”

Beca’s hands on her shoulders are firm and guiding but gentle at the same time. She presses something warm into Chloe’s hands and guides a straw to her lips.

It’s hard to tell what exactly she’s drinking — because she can’t taste anything for shit — but Chloe manages a few pulls to the straw before she recoils and shakes her head.

“Okay. You don’t have to drink anymore right now. We can try again later.”

Beca helps her sink back down into her bed. She’s still too hot, but Beca draws her blankets up to her shoulders anyway.

In her feverish state, Chloe thinks Beca might press a soft kiss to her hot forehead, but when she tries to drag herself out of her restless hallucinations, Beca’s gone from her bedroom.

She figures she must have imagined it.

Chloe falls asleep almost immediately.

~~

She wakes up hours later with a splitting headache, her sheets drenched in her own sweat.

She groans and sits up, squinting her thick and bleary eyes, desperate for some water.

She tries to crawl across her bed towards the bathroom but her hand falls on something soft and squishy and distinctly not-pillow-shaped. The shape yelps and Chloe stumbles backwards, nearly toppling off the side of the bed.

“Beca?” She croaks, throat dry and tongue feeling far too wide for her mouth. “What are you doing here?”

Beca sits up, groaning and rubbing at her stomach. She’s still fully dressed — hasn’t even bothered to kick off her jeans — and she’s completely on top of Chloe’s covers.

Chloe gets the impression she didn’t mean to fall asleep there.

“You were sick,” she mumbles, yawning around the words.

Chloe blinks at her, still a little confused. “How long was I out? How long have you been here?”

Beca glances down at her watch. “Ugh, it’s one in the morning? Jesus.” She rubs at her eyes, stretching and getting to her feet. She flicks on the lamp on Chloe’s bedside table and Chloe blinks, squints, and recoils slightly from the light. “You’ve been basically dead since eleven this morning. I tried to get you to eat some soup at one but you could barely swallow.” She rubs at her neck. “Amy forced some fever medicine down your throat at six, and Stacie’s been switching out cold forehead towels every hour since four.” Beca rolls her neck and Chloe can hear it crack loudly. Beca groans. “I offered to stay here and see if you woke up in the middle of the night. If your fever didn’t break by morning, we were gonna take you to the hospital.”

Chloe tries to swallow but her throat feels like it’s screaming at her. She glances around the room. “Water?” She rasps.

“Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry.” Beca jumps off her bed and scurries to the bathroom. She reappears seconds later with a full glass.

Chloe takes it from her gratefully, her arms feeling heavy and weak all at the same time. She swallows the entire thing down in three long gulps.

She groans and rubs at the back of her neck. “Fuck,” she mutters, “I feel awful.”

Beca sits on the edge of her bed and presses her wrist to Chloe’s forehead. “Well it feels like your fever broke. That’s a good sign.”

Chloe hums and closes her eyes. She still feels exhausted. “Aren’t you worried about getting sick?” She asks.

Beca shrugs. Chloe doesn’t press her on it.

“You hungry at all? You barely ate anything today.”

Chloe’s stomach grumbles in agreement and she smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, actually. I’m starving.”

Beca smiles. “Alright. C’mon then, I’ll buy you some eggs from that 24-hour diner on the corner.”

Chloe laughs. “Beca, I look disgusting. Also that place is gross.”

“Well it’s not like you can get any sicker. And you look fine. The only people that are gonna be there are definitely already drunk, so it’s not like they’re gonna judge the way you look.” Beca grabs one of Chloe’s zip-up hoodies from the back of her desk chair and tosses it towards her. “Put that on and pull it over your hair if you’re so concerned about what you look like.”

“I don’t know if I’m up for going out anywhere,” Chloe meekly protests, but she still pulls the sweater on and zips it up to her chin.

“Wear your pajamas. I’ll buy you juice and an omelet.”

Chloe smiles at Beca’s back as she leads the way out of Chloe’s bedroom. “Alright,” she says quietly to no one in particular. “Lead the way.”

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I’ll be cross-posting these on my [ tumblr.](https://morningsound15.tumblr.com/)


	7. Second First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to have sex,” Chloe says nonchalantly over dinner, and Beca nearly chokes on her food.
> 
> She comes up spluttering and coughing as she frantically reaches for a glass of water. Chloe watches her with an amused twinkle in her eye as it takes Beca a few seconds to comfortably recover.
> 
> When she’s confident she isn’t about to die, she looks up at Chloe with watering eyes. “What?” she croaks.
> 
> “I want to have sex. With you. This weekend, if you’re ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after Chapter 11 of _Perdition._
> 
> **
> 
> Prompt 1: _First time they sleep together after everything._
> 
> Prompt 2: _Hey :) I just wanted you to know that I really love your Bechloe story and the one shots, and since you are accepting prompts I wanted to ask for kind of a more romantic love making scene? Or a scene where the Bellas go on a trip together, possibly overnight or just for a competition or something. Thank you so much for writing this, I can't wait for the next chapter as I really love your writing style!_

**

Chloe and Beca have been ‘figuring things out’ for nearly five months, at this point. That’s sort of how they’re describing it. They’re dating, but slowly. They’re spending a lot of time trying to relearn each other. Trying to figure out if what they have is something worth salvaging.

So. They’re officially ‘figuring things out.’

Chloe likes it, actually. She didn’t think she would, given how her relationship with Beca began. They lived for so long in this strange sort of purgatory, not talking about anything, not defining anything, avoiding responsibility and commitment. And Chloe had _hated_ it then.

She assumed she would hate it now, too. But she doesn’t.

Maybe it’s because she’s older, or maybe it’s because they’ve both changed so much in the past few years, or maybe it’s because they’re actually being open with each other and talking and communicating and doing everything they _should_ have been doing before, but she’s actually really, dizzyingly, _blissfully_ happy. There’s no pressure surrounding her current relationship with Beca. No stress about labels or milestones or picking up where they left off or swearing their undying love or commitment to each other. They just… _are._ They’re just letting themselves _be_.

And it is _so_ nice. It’s easy, and comfortable, and Chloe doesn’t feel like she needs to do or be anything specific. And that’s so refreshing, so unusual, so _easy_ that sometimes she feels like it can’t possibly be real.

But it is. And that’s just… really nice to know.

She feels like a teenager again. Almost like this is her first relationship. Everything feels new and exciting and sweet. It’s all flirty texts and shy blushing exchanges and Snap Chats and video calls and subliminal Instagram captions that certain parts of the internet have been picking through with a fine-toothed comb.

All in all, Chloe feels like she’s 16 again. But without all of the self-conscious embarrassment, without all the angst. Chloe feels like a 16-year-old who is completely confident in herself and in her partner (which, she knows, is not something any actual 16-year-old has ever felt) and she’s happy and she’s giddy and it’s just… even though they’re taking things slowly, and even though they aren’t really using terms like “girlfriend” or “partner”, Chloe’s never felt better. She’s never been happier.

She’s already seriously thinking about giving her notice at the school. Her job is really the only thing tying her to Denver, and she’s not even sure she wants to stay for another full year. And maybe it’s presumptuous of her — she hasn’t mentioned it to Beca, for example — but… she feels good, recently. _Really_ good. Better than she has in years.

And she’s not really ever been the kind of person to place the infallibility of her happiness on another person, but… Beca is definitely a huge part of that.

She never could have imagined this. If you had told her two years ago, three years ago, _five_ years ago that she would be here today, sitting at her desk as the school day draws to a close, daydreaming about Beca Mitchell with nothing but lightness in her chest… she probably would have laughed in your face.

Beca is coming to Colorado this weekend, and Chloe can barely contain her excitement. Beca’s never been to Colorado before. Prior to this weekend, Chloe’s always been the one to go to California and see her. And that’s partly due to scheduling (Chloe has a fixed schedule, while Beca’s been running all around the country doing press and performances and interviews for the past few months), and it’s partly due to the fact that, for whatever reason, Chloe is more comfortable going to LA.

Maybe it’s because of what Denver means to her, what it symbolizes. It was Chloe’s safe haven, the place she escaped to, the place that housed her and let her restart her life. It was where she fell in love, and realized she was worthy of falling in love. The place where she found herself again. The place she was reborn.

She’s been hesitant about sharing that with Beca. Because, as happy she is with Beca, as easy and comfortable as their relationship is… she can’t help but worry. She can’t help but feel like it all might fall out from under her at any minute. She can’t help but wonder whether or not she’s going to wake up one day and find that whatever she _thought_ she was feeling was just some crazy, delusional fantasy.

It’s not Beca’s fault. Beca has been extraordinary through all of this. She’s loving, devoted, attentive, gleeful. She texts Chloe constantly, is always sending her pictures of her food or the studio or whatever fancy outfit her publicist has told her to wear for this interview or that public appearance. Every time Chloe FaceTimes her, she has a beaming, 100-watt smile on her face that makes Chloe’s stomach flutter.

Beca is incredible, and has been nothing but patient and supportive through all of this.

It’s just Chloe who’s sabotaging herself. Chloe who is trapped in her own head, haunted by the remnants of her old insecurities.

The only difference between this time and Before (when Chloe was young and scared and desperate for anything resembling normalcy) is that this time, she isn’t doing it alone.

 

 

She tells Beca everything. She’s open about her doubts, her worries. “It’s just hard to believe this is all real, you know?” she says over the phone one night, when it’s late and they’re both in bed. Chloe is curled up under her covers with her head pillowed on her arm, her phone open in front of her. It’s on speaker, and she can hear Beca’s even breathing if she listens close enough. Chloe wishes they were together, in the same place, in the same bed. She misses her.

_“Are you having doubts about us? About being together?”_

Chloe takes a moment to really think about it. When she answers, she answers truthfully. “I don’t know. I think I _have_ had them. Not about… not anything specific. Just… generally, sometimes. Have you?”

 _“No.”_ Chloe finds that a little surprising. But Beca quickly continues, _“Or, well… I wouldn’t call them **doubts**. I’ve definitely… I mean I’ve had **thoughts** about it. I’m not gonna say that I’m like… **fully** confident all the time.” _Chloe is sympathetic to that. Even now, with all the introspection she’s done, with all of the long conversations she’s had with Beca, with all the work she’s done to heal and find peace in her own life, she still has moments. Moments where she wonders if she’s doing the right thing, where she wonders if she and Beca can truly be happy after everything they’ve done and everything that’s happened, where she worries that, despite Beca’s best assurances, Chloe really isn’t what’s best for her at this time in her life.

Beca keeps speaking, her voice low and quiet. “ _But I know you, Chlo. I love you. And I trust you. And at the end of the day, I believe that this is what I want. **You’re** what I want.”_

Chloe takes a breath. “I trust you, too. I believe that you wouldn’t say or do anything unless you meant it.” And that’s true; Chloe _does_ believe that. Beca has proven it to her, again and again, for more than a year. When Beca tells Chloe that she wants her (a dizzying truth that to this day makes Chloe flush pleasantly), Chloe believes her.

She can hear the smile in Beca’s voice, even from miles away. _“I really want this to work. Because you’re it for me, Chloe. If I know nothing else, I know that._ ”

“You’re a sweet-talker.”

_“Well, you bring it out of me.”_

“I want this to work too, Becs.”

_“Then I want you to trust yourself. You know how you feel. And if you ever start to doubt yourself, or doubt me—”_

“I don’t doubt you,” Chloe says quickly. “I promise you I don’t.”

_“But if you do, I want you to talk to me about it.”_

“I will.”

_“Good. Because I refuse to let your shitty communication skills ruin this for us.”_

Chloe lets out a barking laugh. “ _My_ shitty communication skills? Pot, meet kettle.”

_“Well I never pretended to be any better than you. I’m just realistic.”_

 

 

So now here she is, sitting in her classroom and counting down the seconds until the end of the day, until the moment Beca’s flight lands, until she can hold her again and kiss her again for the first time in nearly a month.

She’s buzzing with excitement, an anxious sort of fluttering in her stomach, a tingling under her skin that feels like electric pulses zapping along her nerve endings. Despite how often they communicate, and despite how much they try, (and despite how often Beca offers to pay for Chloe’s plane tickets — an offer she has yet to accept, because she’s a grown ass woman, thank you very much, and if she can’t afford her own travel expenses then she really doesn’t deserve to be traveling) they really don’t get to see each other in person all that that often. Only a handful of times since the Grammys happened in February.

Chloe misses her like air.

**

There’s this undeniable cloud that’s been hanging over them for the better part of four months.

Well… to call it a _cloud_ isn’t _exactly_ fair, since clouds are generally perceived negatively, as something that covers the bright warmth of radiant sunlight; something that brings rain and storms and destruction; something that hints at potential impending doom.

So, it’s not really fair to call this a _cloud,_ since this _thing_ isn’t really _negative_ and it isn’t even really an _issue_ so Chloe’s not sure why she even needs to think about it or stress about it or worry about it at all, because at the end of the day it isn’t like it’s something she _needs_ out of her relationship with Beca. It’s just…

Oh Christ. Beating around the bush isn’t going to help anything.

Fuck it.

Okay, so… they haven’t had sex yet. And that’s not… look it _isn’t_ a big deal. Chloe, at least, doesn’t particularly care one way or the other _when_ they have sex. She’s even pretty sure she could live the rest of her life with Beca and be perfectly content if they never had sex again. Probably, at least.

Well… _maybe_. Chloe’s not ignorant to the fact that there are people who can have perfectly lovely, fulfilling, passionate relationships without sex. She knows that’s the truth. She respects it, and acknowledges it fully. And, if she had to, she’s sure she would do it for Beca in a heartbeat. But that doesn’t mean it’s what she would actively _want._ She’s just a person who really likes sex, and who considers sex a pretty important part of a relationship. That doesn’t mean _everyone_ has to feel that way, she just…

Look, it isn’t a _problem_ that they haven’t had sex yet. It’s not like this grand, end-all-be-all issue that’s hanging over their heads and making things awkward. They’ve had some very mature conversations about the issue, and Chloe totally and completely understands Beca’s desire to take things slowly, and Beca totally and completely understands Chloe’s wariness and trepidation when it comes to reigniting the _physical_ side of their relationship.

Because during college, the physical side was basically the _only_ side of their relationship. They had sex after knowing each other for only a week, for Christ’s sake. And then continued to have pretty regular sex for the four years after the fact.

And… Chloe won’t lie and say that she didn’t _enjoy_ the sex they had, because she did. But she also can’t pretend that the way they went about things wasn’t also _supremely_ unhealthy. She’d even go so far as to say that it was pretty emotionally, mentally, and physically draining. Maybe even manipulative. Definitely not something either of them are eager to replicate.

And Chloe’s spent much of the last few years working through her feelings regarding what happened to her in college, what she and Beca did together. She’s spent long, agonizing nights parsing through her actions, her feelings, her guilt, her anger and her mistrust. It’s not something that’s come easy to her, but it’s something she’s been determined to deal with in a strong, healthy way.

But Chloe also knows that she has a lot of lingering trauma resulting from those years. Even with all of her work with Raquel, with her therapist, with Beca and her friends and family… it’s still pretty hard to forget.

And of course she doesn’t _actually_ want to forget it. She’s a firm believer in taking responsibility for her actions and mistakes, in learning from the past in order to better the future. But she’s not entirely sure she’s worked out how to reconcile her _new_ relationship with Beca with her _old_ relationship with Beca. She’s not entirely sure that if they start something sexual it won’t trigger her, or put her into a really bad mental state, or cause some kind of panic attack or something similar. Old habits die hard, and she’s not sure if it would nudge either her or Beca into some kind of behavior they’re not fully comfortable with. She’s not sure how it’ll make her feel — if she’ll be simply happy and fulfilled and elated, or if she’ll feel strange and guilty and a little weird.

And she knows Beca has the same reservations. They’ve talked about them at length.

So the whole ‘going slow’ and ‘not rushing anything’ and ‘taking their time’ thing they’ve got going on… Chloe’s really, _really_ grateful for it. Honestly she is. Taking sex off the table for the first few months of their budding relationship has allowed them to explore other aspects of their romantic life. It’s let them focus on communication, on kind romantic gestures, on building a trusting foundation, on working on transitioning from _friends_ to _more,_ on going on cute dates and exchanging quiet nothings in the dead of night. And Chloe really does think that it’s been the right decision for them.

So much of their previous relationship was tied to their unhealthy sex life. It was basically the only thing they had going for them, the only thing they were comfortable acknowledging, the only thing they were willing to discuss (outside of Bellas practices and competitions and set lists and homework, at least). And it truly was unhealthy, in every sense of the word. So to remove that obstacle, to build something true and loving and romantic _without_ having sex, has just served to validate what they already knew: that what they have is tangible, is concrete, is solidly about something _more_ than insane sexual chemistry. That what they feel for each other is real. That what they have is worth pursuing.

Chloe is immensely comforted by that fact.

And it’s not like they haven’t done _anything_ sexual. There have been more than a few hot and heavy make out sessions, more than a few instances with carefully placed thighs, with lightly-applied pressure, with wandering hands and tongues tracing pulse points, the shells of ears.

It’s not like they’ve been living the past few months with no physical or sexual contact. It’s not like they haven’t been exchanging flirty texts and suggestive (but not explicit) pictures for months. It’s not like they’ve become _completely_ de-sexualized. Like, they both still masturbate, it’s just… not really a shared affair, this time around. (Not yet, at least. But that’s a thought Chloe should really revisit later.)

But, with all that being said, Chloe has to admit… she _really_ misses sex.

She’s always been a really sexual person. She loves the intimacy of sex, the pleasure of it. She’s never been ashamed of her own sexuality or her own preferences. She’s never been the kind of person to demure about what she likes or what she wants, especially when it comes to the bedroom. She has no qualms about sleeping with someone on the first date. And she’s always been a physical person — physical with her affections, with her touches. She likes to express herself through physical contact, through kisses, through hands on arms and on lower backs, by sitting close together on couches, by sleeping wrapped in each others’ arms. She hugs as quickly as she smiles.

And she loves sex, and she isn’t ashamed of that.

Chloe doesn’t mind waiting. She _doesn’t_. And in the beginning, she was probably pushing for it more than Beca.

But they’ve been together for almost five months, at this point. And they haven’t slept together in, give or take, 3 years.

And _Christ_ , that’s starting to feel like a lifetime.

Chloe’s vibrator can only do so much work.

Beca is coming to Denver this weekend. And as long as she feels ready, Chloe is determined: she’s not wasting any more time.

**

When Chloe lays eyes on Beca again — when she catches sight of her at the airport outside of baggage claim, with her hair done up in a messy half-bun and her designer jeans and her headphones dangling around her neck and her movie-star-like sunglasses — every doubt, every fear, every insecurity that had been building and building in her mind for the past few weeks melts away instantly. She’s been killing herself with questions, with worries, with equivocating over whether or not what they’re doing is really what’s best for Beca, but the second Chloe sees her, that all suddenly seems so inconsequential.

Her mind empties. All that’s left is Beca.

Chloe approaches her, walking in a brisk half-jog that’s _definitely_ a little too desperate for her liking, but she barely notices. She can’t stop beaming. She knows she must look like a lunatic, but she’s smiling wider than she has in a month and she isn’t about to hide it.

“Oh my God, are you Beca Mitchell?” she asks with a fake gasp. Beca whips around, but the second she sees who it is her wary expression is immediately overtaken by relief. She laughs out loud, her head falling back, her hair tumbling down towards her waist. Chloe is mesmerized. But she still manages to joke, “Can I get an autograph? Maybe a selfie?”

Beca just rolls her eyes and drops her bags at her feet. “You’re a nerd,” she says, right before she launches herself into Chloe’s arms, her hands thrown around Chloe’s neck, squeezing her tight. Chloe squeezes her back just as hard, welcoming the warmth and familiarity of Beca’s embrace.

It feels good. It feels right.

Feels like coming home.

“I’m _so_ happy to see you, you would not _believe._ ”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Beca says as she pulls away, moving her hand up to cup Chloe’s cheek, her thumb brushing against the skin next to her nose. “I think I might have a pretty good idea.”

**

They make it three steps inside the apartment before Chloe manages to kick the door closed behind them. She takes Beca’s bags from her and tosses them unceremoniously onto the couch.

Beca laughs at Chloe’s obvious eagerness. “What, don’t I get a tour of your place?” she teases.

“Main room, kitchen, bedroom back through there,” Chloe says as she points vaguely. She can’t take her eyes off of Beca, hasn’t been able to look away since the moment she first saw her at the airport. They almost got into 3 car accidents just on the way over here. Just because Chloe can’t seem to stop staring at her. (Every time Beca catches her, she flushes.)

Beca crinkles her nose. _God_ , Chloe wants to kiss her. “Fast tour,” she says. But her eyes gleam with mirth as her teeth chew on her lower lip, trying to suppress a smile.

“I’ve got more important things I want to do.”

“Oh yeah?” Beca teases. “Like what?”

Chloe grabs her by the front of her shirt and tugs her closer.

 

 

It’s many long, drawn-out minutes later. They’re lying on the couch, Beca on her back, Chloe on top of her, pressing her into the cushions. They’ve been like this for what feels like an eternity, making out like a couple of teenagers just back from prom night.

“Chlo, we’re gonna—” _kiss_ — “be late.”

“Mmm, don’t care.”

Beca laughs against Chloe’s mouth. “Dinner,” she mumbles half-heartedly. “Reservations.”

Chloe pulls away just long enough to shake her head before she leans back in, bringing her lips to Beca’s jaw and then sliding them down her neck. “Let’s order in,” she says, her breath hot against the wet patches of skin she’s left behind, where her tongue has traced patterns into the most sensitive spots on Beca’s neck. Her teeth find purchase on the area right where Beca’s collarbone hits her neck.

Beca shivers. One of her hands slips into Chloe’s hair, the other gripping tightly to her waist. “You don’t want to eat out?”

Chloe pulls back, her mouth falling open. “Sexual _innuendo_? From _Beca Mitchel_ l?” She gasps, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “Well I _never_.”

Beca laughs in her face. “Get off of me, ya big dork. We’re seriously gonna be late.” She moves to stand from the couch, but doesn’t make it past the coffee table before Chloe snags her hand with her own.

“Yeah, and I seriously don’t care,” she says, lacing their fingers together. Beca still looks hesitant. Her eyes dart to the door before Chloe puts on her biggest, most heart-melting pout. “ _C’mon_ …” she pleads, gently tugging on Beca’s hand, “stay in with me, tonight. Please. I can order in Thai from this place down the street? You love Thai.”

“I do love a good noodle dish…”

Chloe tugs on Beca’s hand a little more insistently, and this time she doesn’t even feign at trying to hold herself back. She lets Chloe yank her back onto the couch, this time on top of her, and she laughs as Chloe’s free hand slides into the back pocket of her jeans. Chloe squeezes her ass lightly and Beca smiles as she kisses her.

“You’re very persuasive,” she says when she finds a moment to breathe.

“So I’ve been told.”

**

“I want to have sex,” Chloe says nonchalantly over dinner, and Beca nearly chokes on her food.

She comes up spluttering and coughing as she frantically reaches for a glass of water. Chloe watches her with an amused twinkle in her eye as it takes Beca a few seconds to comfortably recover.

When she’s confident she isn’t about to die, she looks up at Chloe with watering eyes. “What?” she croaks.

“I want to have sex. With you. This weekend, if you’re ready.”

 “If I’m…”

“Yeah. We’ve been waiting for four months, and I don’t really feel like waiting any more. I mean that’s how I personally feel. Obviously, if you don’t feel ready, we can—”

“No!” Beca interjects quickly. “No, I’m… I also do not need to keep waiting. I mean I’m also ready, to…” she trails off.

“Have sex,” Chloe prompts her gently.

Beca flushes. “Yeah.”

Chloe smiles. “Awesome,” she says, before turning back to her soup.

Beca watches her for a few moments, clearly confused. “Are we not…” She gestures towards the back of the apartment, where Chloe’s bedroom is located. “I mean… were you trying to… now, or—?”

“Finish your noodles, Beca.”

“Right. Yeah. Of course.”

 

 

They make it through dinner easily, though Beca seems somewhat less-inclined to finish her food than before, which Chloe can admittedly understand. No one likes to feel bloated right before they have sex.

But they finish dinner easily, and once all the dishes are in the dishwasher, Beca turns to her expectantly.

Chloe uses her head to gesture towards the couch. “Movie?” she asks.

Beca’s nose scrunches up in this painfully adorable way that makes Chloe’s stomach swoop. “Not really feeling a movie, right now.”

Chloe takes Beca by the hand. “Bedroom?”

Beca swallows. “Yeah. I think… yeah.”

It’s not the first time Beca’s seen her bedroom, but it _is_ the first time she’s seen it in person. When Chloe nudges her door open with her free hand (her other hanging behind her, tangled with Beca’s, gently pulling her along), Beca stares around at the room with something akin to wonder.

Chloe has to chuckle. “You’ve seen pictures before,” she says, but Beca just shoots her a funny look.

“This is different. Pictures are one thing, but… I wanna take it all in. The feel, the smell, the light…” She lets her hand fall from Chloe’s as she picks her way around the room, brushing her fingers reverently over Chloe’s headboard, her dresser, the full-length mirror she has propped against one wall that has pictures and ticket stubs stuffed between the glass and the frame. Her diploma is mounted proudly on her wall. Her Bellas scarf is tied to the post of her bed.

Chloe feels a little strange watching Beca walk around in her space, in her room; watching Beca’s fingers trail over objects that she doesn’t recognize, over furniture she’s never previously touched, over photographs she didn’t take and trinkets and baubles left behind by people she’s never met. It’s a little strange to have her here, in this room and in this city which holds so much significance in Chloe’s life. It’s strange to think of her as a stranger, here.

“Did you clean up for me?” Beca asks. She sounds touched by thought, by the knowledge that Chloe has arranged her belongings in order to provide a sort of comfort, an appeal. She sounds like she almost _hopes_ Chloe’s done just that: made her life seem a little more presentable in order to impress her.

“Kicked all my dirty laundry under the bed,” Chloe teases. “So as long as you don’t look under there, we’re fine.”

Beca laughs as she bends a little more over Chloe’s desk. She’s looking at the photographs there, studying them. Chloe can’t be sure what she’s looking at or what she’s looking for, but whatever it is, it seems to have enraptured her.

There are four framed pictures on her desk, taking up the main places of honor in her bedroom. One is a picture of her family, from the summer after she turned 19. They’re on the beach, crowded under a giant umbrella. Chloe is on her dad’s back and her mom is pulling a face at the camera, tongue sticking out and eyes crossed. They’re all laughing. Chloe remembers it as one of the happiest summers of her life.

The next picture is a framed group shot of the Barden Bellas from their senior year (Chloe’s _last_ senior year). It’s the day of graduation, and everyone has crowded on the front porch of their house in their garish green robes, hats on heads and diplomas in hand. Emily is squashed in between Beca and Chloe, and she looks young and happy and excited and terrified, all at the same time.

The next picture is from Chloe’s third grade class a year or so ago. It’s a candid shot of Chloe, sitting on the floor with her legs crossed as she plucks out some melody on the keyboard. The twenty-or-so odd third graders are dancing around her, caught mid-laugh and mid-song as a particularly precocious 9-year-old boy bangs away at a set of congas in the corner. Raquel took the picture a few weeks before she moved back to Kentucky, and it never fails to bring a smile to her face.

The last picture is the one of Beca and Chloe from the Grammys, the one caught by at least fifteen different paparazzi, the one that made the front page of the regional Style section and which is single-handedly responsible for the 13,000 people who now follow Chloe on Instagram. It’s one of her favorite pictures ever. Her makeup is a little runny and there are obvious tear-tracks down her cheeks, and Beca’s Grammy is sandwiched tightly (and, if she remembers correctly, _uncomfortably_ ) between their bodies, but it’s obvious that neither of them cares. They’re kissing like they’re alone, like no one can see them, and there’s something almost breathtaking about the image. It stops Chloe in her tracks every time she sees it. Maybe it’s the way her lips are curved into a smile, even mid-kiss. Maybe it’s the way she looks so effortlessly _glamorous_ (thanks in no small part to Beca’s team of stylists). Maybe it’s something about the memory of that night, and what it symbolizes. Maybe it’s the memory of Beca’s win, and the pride she felt hearing her name called. Maybe it’s the memory of Beca telling her she loves her, loudly and proudly in front of millions of strangers. Maybe it’s the way Beca’s hands cup her cheeks, like she’s something delicate that needs to be handled with care.

For whatever reason, it’s maybe Chloe’s favorite possession.

But of course, that’s not the picture that’s caught Beca’s attention.

She lifts up the third picture, the one of Chloe sitting in the middle of a hurricane of children, and she smiles down at it with this _look_ in her eye that makes Chloe feel undeniably and unequivocally _seen._

“This is _so_ cute,” Beca says quietly, her eyes wide as her finger traces the figures behind the glass. “Look at you, totally in your element, entertaining the masses. What were you singing to them? Do you remember?”

Chloe shakes her head, though Beca isn’t looking at her. “Something about mangos, I think.”

Beca laughs, and finally glances up from the picture. “Mangos,” she says, utterly beaming. “That’s so awesome.”

Something grabs Chloe then, something that reaches deep inside of her and closes itself around her heart and her stomach and her throat so it feels like she can’t breathe. Beca’s looking at this picture, this dumb little picture of Chloe during a regular day at school, like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. She’s studying it like she studies her mixes, all deep, intense gaze and thoughtful expression. She’s staring at this picture like it contains the very secrets to the universe itself, like if she could only look at it for long enough she might be able to decipher what they are.

And it’s _dumb._ It’s just a silly little snapshot of Chloe at her job. It shouldn’t really mean anything to Beca at all.

But it _does._ It _means something_ to her.

It means something to Chloe, too. That’s why it’s on her desk, with the only other photographs in her life that she really cares to look at again and again and again. Because it means something to her. Even if it’s dumb, and silly, and a little childish. Even if it’s just an iPhone photo her ex-girlfriend took one day on a whim. It means something deeper to her, something she can’t explain, but she looks at it whenever she’s feeling down, and it never fails to cheer her up.

And, somehow, without even talking about it, Beca seems to know that intuitively.

And Chloe doesn’t really know what that means, apart from the fact that it leaves her totally weak in the knees.

“Can you get me a copy of this?” Beca asks, lifting the frame a little higher. “I want one for my desk at work.”

And Chloe kisses her. She takes three steps forward and she kisses Beca soundly, softly, because she just can’t bear to _not_ kiss her any longer.

Beca makes a surprised noise into Chloe’s mouth but she sinks into the kiss almost at once. Chloe takes the picture from Beca’s hands even as she keeps kissing her and puts it back on the desk behind her.

She has Beca pressed against the desk, the dark wood hitting right below her lower back. Chloe braces a hand on the desk and uses her other to hold Beca’s waist, framing her, almost trapping her.

There’s something a little off in the way Beca kisses her back. Her hands are restless, like they can’t decide where to land. They go from Chloe’s face to her shoulders to her hips and back, sometimes toying at buttons of her shirt and sometimes just smoothing over the fabric. And though Beca’s kisses themselves are languid and easy, there’s a stiffness to her body and an unease to her movements that give Chloe more than a little pause.

She pulls away after only a few more seconds. “Beca, are you okay? You’re acting kind of… fidgety.” She backs up a step so that she no longer has Beca pushed against her desk. She keeps her hand on Beca’s waist, her thumb rubbing in soothing circles, dipping into the space between where Beca’s shirt ends and her pants begin. She brushes the bare skin of Beca’s sides with feather-light touches, trying not to spook her. “Do you not want to do this?” she asks. “Because it’s totally fine if you don’t, you just have to tell me.”

“No it’s not that it’s just…” Beca swallows thickly and flushes, lowering her eyes to the ground. Her hands flex on Chloe’s shoulders. “I’m nervous,” she admits softly, so softly Chloe has to strain to hear her.

“You’re nervous? Why?”

“Well… we haven’t _done_ this—”

“Had sex. You’re gonna have to say it eventually, Becs. I can’t in good faith have sex with someone who can’t even say the words properly.”

Beca laughs, almost in spite of herself. “Right. Sorry.” She runs a hand through her hair. “You know I’ve always been weird, talking about this kind of stuff.”

“I know,” Chloe says, not unkindly. Because she _does_ know. It’s something that, when they were younger, Chloe always viewed as something of an adorable quirk of Beca’s. The fact that she grew up in a weird, emotionally-repressed household (so different from Chloe’s own open one, with her free-love preaching parents and family motto of ‘ask us any question you need to and we promise to never lie to you’).

But they’re adults, now. They’re _well_ into their twenties. Chloe’s approaching 30. And if Beca is as serious about this relationship as she says she is, she’s going to need to start opening up to Chloe and discussing things frankly, without embarrassment or fear of judgment. That’s the only way this is going to work.

Chloe says as much, and Beca smiles at her, nodding along in agreement. “You’re right. It’s something I’m gonna work on.”

“I like that. Thank you.” Chloe takes another step back, understanding that this sort of conversation is the serious kind not meant to be had with the looming potential for distraction that close proximity is sure to bring. She taps the top of Beca’s hands with her fingers. “You can start by telling me why you’re so nervous.”

Beca takes a deep breath. “Right,” she says, setting her shoulders. “Well… We haven’t had sex in a while.”

Chloe smiles. “Been a few years, yeah.”

“Give or take.”

“I hear it’s like riding a bike, though.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “You _know_ I don’t know how to ride a bike.”

“And _you_ know that I’ve offered to teach you at least twenty times. Honestly, Becs, what kind of self-respecting twenty-five-year-old doesn’t know how to ride a _bike_?”

“We’re getting off-topic.”

“I think this is _very_ on-topic. Just because you live in a city doesn’t mean you shouldn’t learn valuable life skills. Like bike-riding. Or how to read a map.”

“I got us lost _one_ time, Chloe, and—” She shakes herself. “No. Hey.” She points an accusing finger at Chloe’s faux-innocent expression. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“I’m trying to get you more comfortable. Is it working?”

Beca tilts her head to the side and squints. “Maybe a little.” Chloe beams. “But I thought you wanted me to open up to you, tell you what’s on my mind?”

“I do. Of course I do. I just thought… maybe, this might help?” Chloe sinks down onto her bed and pats the space next to her invitingly, imploring Beca to join her. When she does, after only a moment’s hesitation, Chloe knocks their knees together and starts tracing her fingertips gently on the soft inner skin of Beca’s forearm. She drags them up and down slowly, almost lazily, and Beca’s body leans into hers instinctively.

Chloe looks at her and smiles. She places a soft kiss to Beca’s cheek. “It’s just me,” Chloe practically whispers then, her breath warm and barely-there. “I feel like you forget that, sometimes. But it’s just me, here. Whether it’s as your friend or your girlfriend or some combination of both. You shouldn’t worry about upsetting me, or disappointing me, because that’s not what this is. As long as we’re being honest with each other.” Beca’s hand looks like it’s trembling a little where it rests on her thigh, and Chloe wastes no time in twining their fingers together. She places another soft kiss to Beca’s shoulder, and prods, as gently as she can, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Beca swallows. “I know,” she says, her own voice coming out almost as quiet as Chloe’s. There’s another texture to it, something almost rough, that tugs a bit at Chloe’s heartstrings. “It just feels scary to talk about.”

“We really don’t have to have sex. I’m sorry for putting this pressure on you. I’m honestly fine to keep waiting, as long as it takes.”

Beca shakes her head. “It’s not that. I’m… I _want_ to have sex with you. God, you have no _idea_ how much I want to.”

“But?”

Beca shrugs. “I just… I think I’ve built it up so much in my head that now that we’re here, I just…” She takes a breath. “I want it to be perfect.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I’m nervous, too.”

Beca releases a puff of air as the tension leaves her body. “Yeah?” she asks shakily, almost hopefully.

“Yeah. I’ve been nervous for like a month. Just thinking about having sex with you again and I get like—” Chloe gestures towards her abdomen— “a million butterflies, all in here.”

“Oh thank God. I was worried it was just me.”

Chloe cups Beca’s cheeks in her hands. For some reason, Beca’s nerves have emboldened Chloe. Like all she needed was the confirmation, the permission, and her own worries have completely melted away. Like having Beca admit her anxieties has allowed Chloe to embody a confidence she didn’t know she had. Beca needs her to be strong, needs at least one of them to be confident and cool in this situation, and so she becomes strong. “But then I remember that it’s _you_ I’m doing this with _,_ and suddenly that’s all I can care about. Being with you, making you feel good…” One of Chloe’s hands leaves Beca’s cheek and slides around to the back of her neck. She uses her fingernails to scratch there, right at the nape of Beca’s neck, at the bottom of her hairline. Beca hums as her eyelids flutter shut, and she relaxes further into the sensation. Chloe leans forward and presses a slow, lingering kiss to the spot just beneath Beca’s ear. “It gives me something to focus on; something I know I’m good at,” Chloe whispers, kissing her again in the same spot. “Something to look forward to.”

She pulls back and Beca’s eyes open slowly. She blinks a few times and her gaze looks a little hazy, like she can’t quite focus on what’s in front of her. Her pupils are huge, blown-out and dilated, and Chloe has to bite her lip as something clenches low in her gut. Beca’s turned on, and that thought in and of itself is exhilarating.

“Beca…” Chloe says softly, pulling her away from whatever fantasy world she’s fallen into, bringing her back to the present, “it’s just sex. It doesn’t _have_ to be perfect. And we don’t have to rush anything either, alright? We have all the time in the world. Tonight doesn’t have to be any more or less than whatever it is. We can take our time, go slow…”

But Beca shakes her head again as her expression clears and her eyes sharpen. “No. _Fuck_ slow. I’ve been thinking about this for over a year. We have _plenty_ of time for slow later. Right now, I just want you naked and in bed.”

“Nope. My house, my rules. You get naked first.”

Beca has to laugh. “Alright. You win.” She reaches down and grasps the hem of her shirt. She eyes Chloe quickly, her eyebrow raised. “But you have to help me.”

“Oh no, what a chore.”

Beca reaches out to smack at Chloe’s shoulder, but Chloe grabs her by the arm and stops her. Instead, she leans forward and kisses Beca again. The hesitance from earlier has evaporated. Beca responds to the kiss with her entire body.

Chloe guides them down, her hands finding the hem of Beca’s shirt. She pushes it up her torso and Beca separates their mouths just long enough for Chloe to yank it over her head and toss it to the side of the room. Beca giggles as her hair gets caught, covering her face, but Chloe pushes it to the side with little fanfare to kiss her again.

Beca’s stomach is softer than Chloe remembers — softer than when they were in college. Not surprising, since Chloe _also_ no longer has the body of a 21-year-old, but it’s still pleasant. Her stomach is soft and her sides are still ticklish (she jerks a little when Chloe’s fingers brush the sensitive spot right under her ribcage, but she doesn’t pull away) and Chloe can’t stop running her hands over and over and over the expanse of Beca’s torso. Chloe finds she’s fascinated by every new inch of skin that’s revealed. She’s seen Beca in every state of undress imaginable, but not for a few years. They’ve only been topless together once since they started officially dating.

Every new article of clothing Chloe pulls from her body reveals something new. Stretch marks over her hips, freckles and moles along the top of her back, and, when Chloe slips Beca’s bra off her shoulders—

Chloe lets out a breath at the sight. She’s frozen in place, completely captivated by this completely unexpected accessory.

She always knew Beca was a fan of piercings, but she never knew—

“This is new,” she says quietly. Her hands are just ghosting the sides of Beca’s breasts. She doesn’t know if she’s allowed to reach out, if she’s allowed to touch. She thinks she just wants to look for a little while longer.

Beca has her _nipple pierced_.

Jesus fucking Christ. This girl is going to be the death of her.

Beca blushes heavily. “Yeah, I… didn’t know how to bring it up. I can always take it out, if—”

“Oh God, please don’t. It’s so hot.” Chloe bends her head and blows lightly on the puckered skin of Beca’s nipple and Beca has to bite down hard on her lip as she arches her back towards the sensation. “What other secrets do you have?”

“More — mmm, more tattoos.”

“Don’t tell me where they are. I wanna find them myself.”

“ _Chloe_ ,” Beca pleads, and Chloe realizes then that she’s been staring at Beca’s bare breasts for a good few minutes and has yet to actually _do_ anything about it. But you can’t blame her, really. The piercing really threw her for a loop.

But, never one to be deterred from her mission for long, Chloe now approaches her task of disrobing Beca with a new-found purpose.

Beca’s pants are the next to go, followed quickly by her underwear. As she’s struggling to kick her legs free of her jeans Chloe takes the opportunity to tug her own dress off.

She’s flattered by the way Beca stares at her, by the way she gapes, the way her eyes trace Chloe’s curves, her breasts, the flare of her hips. But they don’t have time for staring. Beca is naked in front of her, and all Chloe wants to do is get her hands on her again. She begins making her way down Beca’s body, leaving wet kisses along every inch of skin she can comfortably reach, but she’s single-minded in her pursuits, and almost before Beca can blink Chloe is spreading her thighs and settling herself between her legs.

Chloe can’t think of anything else. She pauses only long enough to sink her teeth into the skin above Beca’s hipbone before she dives, quite literally (and with a cringe-worthy lack of irony) head-first between Beca’s thighs.

The first taste of her is exquisite. Everything Chloe remembers, and yet so, _so_ much more. She wastes no time teasing (fuck slow, as Beca so eloquently put it — they have all the time in the world for slow. Chloe just wants to make her cum, and _now_ ), instead finding Beca’s clit with the first swipe of her tongue. She wraps her lips around the bud and sucks.

Beca just about jumps clean off the bed. “God, wait. Wait wait wait.”

Chloe pulls back immediately. “What is it? Everything okay?” Beca nods, but her legs are trembling and her eyes are clenched tight, which is… more than a little worrying. Chloe pushes herself up onto her elbows and puts a hand on the more neutral terrain of Beca’s abdomen. “Becs?” she asks, nervously. “What’s wrong?”

Beca shakes her head again. She takes a few breaths as she looks back at Chloe, still nestled between her legs. “Nothing… there’s nothing wrong. I just, um… I never really thought I’d be in this position again. I mean I never really… dared to think…”

Chloe lets out a breath, suddenly relieved. “Oh. Yeah, I know. I feel that way, too.”

“It’s just a lot.”

“We can slow down? Or stop?”

Beca shakes her head vehemently. “Not stop. _Definitely_ do not want to stop. But maybe… slow? I think slow would be nice.”

Chloe bites her lip to hide her affectionate smile. “Slow.”

Beca nods as she threads her fingers through Chloe’s hair, finding a strong purchase against her scalp. The pressure is light, almost-tugging but also almost-comforting. Chloe preens at the touch. “Yeah,” Beca whispers, her eyes boring into Chloe’s. “Slow.”

Chloe dips her head once more, and this time her tongue is slow and exploratory. She avoids Beca’s clit, instead spending her time focusing on the rest of her sex. She keeps her tongue flat, her strokes broad and messy. Not providing enough pressure to push Beca over the edge, but making it _extremely_ obvious that she’s going to take her time, and she’s going to enjoy the shit out of it while she does.

Beca whimpers, her hips bucking and jerking up every time Chloe gets within a few centimeters of her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her hand in Chloe’s hair tightens and loosens reflexively, but it doesn’t push or pull — she doesn’t direct Chloe’s actions. It’s more like… she just wants to feel close to her.

Chloe spends a good twenty minutes there, her face between Beca’s thighs, not trying to build to any one specific goal but just trying to _enjoy._ And she would spend an eternity more with her lazy, languid movements, if she didn’t think Beca would kill her for her prolonged teasing after too long.

Beca has been slowly losing coherence the longer Chloe spends lavishing attention to her swollen and dripping sex. She’s trembling now, and Chloe has to put a hand on her hips to hold her steady and keep her from writhing off the bed. She’s whimpering, little broken-off gasps and moans that fill Chloe’s room like the most entrancing music. Chloe knows Beca is holding herself back — she knows how vocal she can be, after all — but something about that is almost better. There’s something almost exhilarating about knowing that Beca _could_ be screaming and moaning and disturbing Chloe’s very nice neighbors right now, but she isn’t. It leaves open the possibility of a challenge, the possibility of _more,_ and Chloe absolutely cannot _wait_ until she can ravage Beca until she forgets all hints of propriety and self-control.

But that’s a goal for another day.

“Jesus Christ,” Beca says breathlessly. They’re her first words in ages, and Chloe flushes with pride at the knowledge that she’s finally broken Beca’s iron-clad composure.

She raises her head, her face wet with sweat and Beca and her own saliva. She meets Beca’s eyes, pupils dilated so wide with lust that her irises look almost black. Beca’s forehead is drawn and her lips are kiss-swollen. Her hair is a mess, wild and unkempt. It’s the most beautiful sight Chloe’s ever seen.

“Chloe,” she says, and Chloe, making sure to keep eye contact the entire time, finally shifts her attention up. Her tongue becomes a sharp point as she flicks it suddenly, rapidly, over Beca’s clit.

Beca’s thighs clench around her ears as her hands tighten in her hair and her back arches so high off the bed it’s like she’s bent in half. Her mouth drops open in a silent scream, but she doesn’t break eye contact with Chloe even as her first orgasm of the night crashes over her.

Chloe continues her ministrations, making sure to slow down her licks as she coaxes Beca through her aftershocks.

When even the gentlest pressure becomes too much, Beca pulls incessantly at Chloe’s hair. Chloe follows the tug, sliding up Beca’s body, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her pelvis, her hip, her breasts, her neck.

Beca kisses her, even though she’s out of breath, even though she’s still trembling in Chloe’s arms. Her kisses are also wet, more tongue than anything, and Chloe feels a clench in her stomach as she realizes Beca is going out of her way to taste herself on Chloe’s tongue, to clean herself from Chloe’s lips and chin.

“Fuck,” Beca finally mumbles, still panting. “That was _wild_.”

Chloe hums in agreement. She slides her hand up Beca’s thigh, between her still-parted legs. When her fingers brush Beca’s sex Beca jumps, but she doesn’t object to the touch. She makes a small noise and buries her head in Chloe’s neck, her teeth finding purchase against Chloe’s pulse point.

Chloe slips inside of her for the first time in years as she lavishes kisses to Beca’s temple, the crown of her head. Beca bites down on her neck and Chloe takes her ear gently between her teeth. Her fingers move slowly, a gentle thrusting that belies the anxious energy Chloe feels thrumming through her own body, spurred on by her own arousal. (But this isn’t about her. This is about Beca. And she’s going to make sure that Beca is taken care of, first, before she worries about herself.)

“Fuck, Chloe,” Beca pants, tilting her head up and to the side to allow Chloe more access to her neck. “Fuck, more, need… need more…”

Chloe complies, speeding up her fingers gradually. When Beca continues to whine, to ask for _more,_ Chloe shifts so that she has a better position. She uses her hips to add a little force behind her thrusts, and Beca gasps at the new sensation. She arches up towards Chloe’s body, her nails scrambling for purchase against Chloe’s back as Chloe fucks her, and Chloe is torn between wanting to _watch_ and wanting to focus on the feeling of Beca’s cunt gripping her fingers, pulling them in.

“More, Chlo,” Beca begs. “Please, ‘m so—so close. Just need… little more…”

Chloe bends and takes Beca’s nipple into her mouth, her teeth closing for just a moment on the barbell there. She rolls the metal over her tongue and sucks gently, pulls at the piercing with her teeth ever-so-slightly, and that was apparently the right thing to do, because Beca absolutely _loses_ it.

She clenches around Chloe’s fingers for an impossibly long amount of time as she seems frozen, her body taught as every muscle within her seems to seize at the same moment, and then—

Then it’s like a full-body release. Beca lets out some kind of noise that sounds like a cross between a whine, a groan, and a scream, and then she collapses as her cunt spasms and her body shivers. Chloe continues to thrust into her as Beca just comes and comes and comes. Chloe’s hand is soaked, all the way down to her wrist, and she knows that her sheets have probably not fared much better, but she couldn’t care less. She’s in awe as she watches Beca come back to herself, and when Beca opens her eyes for the first time and meets Chloe’s gaze Chloe feels like she could stay in this moment for the rest of her life and never want for anything more.

“C’mere,” Beca says blearily, and Chloe leans up to kiss her. She shifts her hips to do so, and accidentally presses down on the fingers still in Beca’s body.

Beca hisses at the sensation and Chloe immediately freezes. “Sorry,” she whispers, but Beca shakes her head.

“Fine,” she murmurs, one hand on the back of Chloe’s neck. “Just sensitive.”

Chloe’s much more careful this time when she goes to kiss her, and Beca meets her half-way, her lips loose and lazy, like she’s only just awoken from a deep slumber. Chloe moves to untangle their bodies, but when she starts to move her hand away from Beca, Beca grips her wrist quickly, stopping her. “Don’t…” she says quietly, and something in her expression looks almost disquietingly vulnerable. “Can you… can you stay? Just for a minute. I’m not…”

Chloe kisses her again. Her wrist is starting to cramp and her fingers feel sore and prune-y, but none of that matters. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”

**

Chloe wakes up the next morning already smiling. Beca is pressed against her under the covers, tucked under her chin, and Chloe watches her with an open sort of reverence.

She almost can’t believe it. She can’t believe that they’re here, that they’re here _together,_ that _Beca_ is here in _Denver_ and she’s naked in Chloe’s bed because they slept together last night and it was… amazing. Incredible. Everything Chloe had ever imagined it would be.

She can’t believe she got so lucky. That even after everything that happened to her in college, she still ended up here, with Beca — completely happy and satiated and feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.

She watches Beca for a long time (an amount of time that might have bordered on _creepy_ if it weren’t for their pre-established relationship) before Beca finally stirs. She shifts on the bed, muttering something in that state of half-sleep, half-wakefulness that defines the early morning.

Chloe runs her fingers through the tangled mess of Beca’s hair, pulling lightly on the knots, scratching her nails lightly on the skin. This wakes Beca a little more, and she blinks her eyes open slowly, her expression bleary as she squints against the morning sunlight.

“Hey,” she croaks, stretching as much as she can while still keeping herself wrapped around Chloe. She yawns loudly, a long and drawn-out movement that warms Chloe down to the tips of her toes. Beca blinks a few more times and smiles at Chloe, still only half-awake. “Why’re you up?” she slurs. “What time is it?”

“I love you.”

Beca is suddenly wide awake. She blinks at Chloe, open and trusting, and doesn’t speak for a few seconds. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, like she’s searching for her words. “You’ve never said that to me before,” she finally says quietly, her voice a near-whisper.

“Yes I have.”

“Not since we got together.”

“But you knew how I felt.”

“Yeah, but… you’ve never _said it_ before.”

Chloe bites her lip to keep her smile at least moderately-contained. “I love you.”

Beca has no such qualms about her own grin. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Beca slides forward on the bed, bringing her forehead to Chloe’s. She brushes their noses together. “Again,” she whispers.

Chloe smiles and kisses her slowly. When she draws back, her eyes are shining. “I love you, Beca.”

“This isn’t just because of the amazing sex we had last night, is it?”

Chloe rolls her eyes and shoves Beca away from her. But Beca laughs and catches her arm, pulling Chloe along with her so they end up toppling over, Beca on her back and Chloe braced above her. Chloe shakes her head but her smile is fond. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me.”

“A flaw I’m working on.”

“Nope, that’s not working on me. Tease all you like, but you _love me,_ and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Chloe laughs as Beca kisses her, surely and soundly. She’s right, of course; Chloe is in love, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

But she wouldn’t have it any other way.

**

 

* * *

  _Beca Retweeted_ :

@thelonelyfool: HAVE YOU EVER LOVED SOMEONE SO MUCH THAT JUST HEARING THEIR NAME OR SEEING A PICTURE OF THEM MAKES YOU SO HAPPY YOU HAVE TO SIT THERE A MOMENT BECAUSE YOU CAN’T STOP SMILING

**1,639 replies                    32.6k retweets               62.5k likes**

* * *

 

 **bree (2:45 p.m.)  
** To: **bellas captains**  
*screenshot*

 **bree (2:45 p.m.)  
** To: **bellas captains**  
gross.

 **Chloe (2:46 p.m.)  
** To: **bellas captains**  
OMG when is the last time  
we used this group message???

 **Chloe (2:46 p.m.)  
** To: **bellas captains**  
also aww! Babe!

 **Becs (2:49 p.m.)**  
To: **bellas captains**  
what can i say?  
you make me sappy

 **Becs (2:49 p.m.)  
** To: **bellas captains**  
<3

 **Chloe (2:49 p.m.)  
** To: **bellas captains**  
<3

  
**bree (2:50 p.m.)  
** To: **bellas captains**  
you two are disgusting.  
tone it down immediately.

 **Becs** **(2:50 p.m.)  
** To: **bellas captains**  
if it bothers u that much  
aubrey just unfollow me

**

* * *

 **2:51 pm** \-- Following  
@aubreyposen _Follows you_

 **2:55 pm** \-- Following  
@aubreyposen

* * *

 **Becs (2:55 p.m.)  
** To: **bellas captains**  
*screenshot*

 **Becs (2:55 p.m.)  
** To: **bellas captains**  
@aubrey bitch

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on [ tumblr.](https://morningsound15.tumblr.com/)


End file.
